Special Treatment
by Neuropsych
Summary: Peter is sick, Tony brings in extra help to take care of him. If you are new to this story, you can read the first chapter on the chapter labeled as 54 as a temporary fix for an issue with the chapters.
1. Chapter 2

_Author's note: Chapter one somehow was deleted and I haven't yet figured out how to put it back in its proper spot so I posted it at the chapter 54 space. Start this story at chapter 54 and then come back to this one! Sorry about the hassle_

OOOOOOOOOOOOO

"He seems like a nice guy," Peter said, running his hand along the small bandage where his IV had been.

"He's arrogant and opinionated," Tony said, looking at the closed door for a moment before transferring his gaze to the boy.

"And you _like_ him."

"Yeah. He reminds me of me. And we both know how much I like me."

Peter smiled, but Tony could see how tired he looked. He resisted the urge to check his temperature again, knowing that if it had been dangerously high – or even out of range of what it should be, Strange would have caught it and said something, or done something. Before he could add to his comment, though,, Peter spoke up.

"What happened?" he asked. "Did you really find me at the river?"

"Yeah." Now he _did_ lean forward, pulling the blankets up a little since Peter had shifted them when he'd started to get up. "What can you remember?"

Now that he wasn't trying so hard to figure out what had happened, Peter found that he did remember some little things that he hadn't before.

'I was feeling restless," he said, looking around the room. "So I thought I'd get some air."

"Karen should have caught on that you weren't well."

"She _did_." Peter wondered why he was suddenly so defensive, sticking up for the faceless voice in his suit. He was, though, and he did feel that he needed to stick up for her. "She said I should probably get some sleep. And take some Tylenol or something."

"Did you have a headache?"

"Everything ached, I think."

Tony decided he'd mention that to Strange. They knew what had knocked Peter down, but they still didn't know why – or why it was so bad for him when the classmates that had caught whatever it was had all recovered quickly and had suffered far less discomfort.

"Then what?" he asked, filing that thought for later. Right now, his focus was on Peter. "After you went out…"

Peter shrugged.

"I'm not sure. I started feeling light-headed and awful. Karen told me that I should go back, but we were close to a park so I thought I'd…" he trailed off, frowning. "I guess I don't remember what I was thinking. Maybe I thought I'd go swimming or something. To cool off."

"Not the most brilliant of ideas," Tony chided. "You were drenched when I found you."

"How did you know something was wrong?"

"I told you; Karen called me." He poked him lightly in the chest. "You owe Pepper big time, young man. She had just made me dinner and I had to go running off before I could tell her how amazing it was."

He didn't mention the panic he'd felt when the AI in Peter's suit had hacked into his home's smart system and announced that her charge had lost consciousness in the middle of swinging his way toward a perch on a tree and had landed in the small stream that was running through the park.

"I'm sorry," Peter said, shaking his head and looking down. "I didn't mean to cause so much trouble. I just-"

"Not _trouble_ ," Tony said, cutting him off. Concern. Anxiety. Dread. Apprehension. Yes, _all_ of those. He didn't say it, though. Instead he patted the boy's leg through the blanket. "You had May a little worried, is all."

"I'm sorry."

He didn't know what else to say, but he meant it.

"Don't worry about it, Peter. I'm just glad you're awake. May will be, too. She's been hovering around here like some kind of deranged maniac, asking for updates on you every hour." Stark smiled, both to let Peter know none of them had minded, and to assure him that his aunt was fine before he could get worked up and try to go find her. "When your dinner comes, I'll go find her and let her know you're awake – unless Doctor Strange has already done it."

"Thanks."

"You're welcome. I think-"

He was interrupted by a soft knock on the door, and it opened without waiting for a reply, revealing a young man holding a tray that was obviously meant for Peter. Stark stood up and gestured for him to set the tray on the rolling table next to Peter's bed. The tray held soup, bread, a glass of milk and a jello cup. Typical invalid fare. Tony was glad he wasn't eating it.

"I was told to tell you to eat it all, and get some rest," the young man said when he delivered the tray and pulled the table over Peter's legs so he could reach it with minimal exertion.

"Thank you."

When they were alone again, Tony stood up.

"Do what you're told," he said, giving the boy another pat on his leg as he did so. "We'll talk some more when you're feeling better, and I'll go tell May you're awake."

Peter nodded, but Stark left before he could say thank you again, closing the door behind him and leaving the boy to a much needed meal and some actual rest.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOO

He headed down the quiet hallway, uncertain exactly where he was going but allowing his legs and his instinct to take him there. When he found himself outside his own quarters, he sighed and opened the door, uncertain if they were occupied or not just then.

"How is he?" Pepper asked without preamble, getting up from his desk where she'd been working on Stark Industry paperwork while waiting for him and crossing the room. As far as temporary quarters went, Stark's were extremely comfortable.

"He's awake."

"And?"

Tony shrugged, not meeting her concerned gaze. Not concern for Peter, he knew, but for him.

"He doesn't remember much. Just being sick."

Pepper slid her arms around him, forcing him to look at her by her sheer presence.

"And how are you doing?"

Tony gathered her into his arms, closing his eyes as he rested his cheek on her shoulder, taking the comfort she was offering, and stealing a little of her courage. She was the only one who knew just how afraid he'd been when he'd responded to Karen's appeal – and how worried he'd been that he wasn't going to get there in time. But even she didn't know how much he ached when he allowed himself to think of what he might have lost that night.

"Relieved," he whispered.


	2. Chapter 3

" _Peter!" Something was slapping him – not hard enough to hurt, but definitely hard enough to get his attention. "Hey! Stay with me, Kid."_

 _He opened his eyes, but his vision was fuzzy, and his head was pounding, making it hard to focus. His mind seemed to be going a million different directions and his senses were on overload. Pain from his head, heat all over and at the same time he thought he might be shivering from cold. And his feet were sloshing in his boots from water. It was just odd enough to get his attention, and one more discomfort to add to the growing list. He recognized the voice, though. Or thought he did._

" _Mr. Stark?"_

" _I've got you. Hang on, okay?"_

 _He felt hands on him, and heard Stark and Karen talking – presumably to each other since he didn't hear his name, although he couldn't focus enough to really understand what they were saying. He heard the word_ home _, though, and that grabbed his attention._

" _I've gotta get home, Mr. Stark," he mumbled. "My mom's going to freak out. She said to be back before the street lights come on…" He didn't hear an answer – although there was more conversation between Karen and Tony, but he didn't wait for a reply. He couldn't. He twisted around, trying to get his feet under him so he could get up. Strong hands held him down, pinning him._

" _Peter, hold still." This time the voice was clear as crystal and demanding, cutting through his confusion. "I'll talk to your au – to your mom. Don't worry, she'll understand. We've got to get you out of here."_

" _I need to go home…" he murmured. Or maybe he just said it in his head, since there was no reply. The same hands that had been holding him down were now picking him up, holding him against something hard and metallic._

" _You need to hold still," he was told. He felt the thrust of power that lifted him into the air, but when he opened his eyes the world started spinning and he gagged. "And don't you dare throw up on me!"_

"Peter?"

The voice was barely a whisper. Soft enough he might not have even heard it, but for the concern that laced that single word and drew his attention like nothing else might have just then. He started awake, the odd dream fading almost immediately, and opened his eyes. His aunt was sitting on the edge of his bed, leaning over him, looking all kinds of worried.

"Aunt May…" he looked around and saw the remains of his dinner, still on the tray and barely touched. "I fell asleep?"

She nodded, her hand coming to his face and running gently along his forehead and his cheek. Peter wondered illogically what it was about sick people that made people want to touch their faces. He didn't mind, though. Her smile was mixed with love and relief and amusement, and he was glad to see her.

"Doctor Strange told me that you were awake and that you were going to be eating so I thought I'd come see for myself how you were doing. But you were asleep. I'm sorry I woke you up, but I wanted to check…" she trailed off, her eyes tearing up and Peter took her hand, feeling guilty for worrying her when she had a million things to worry about already.

"I'm okay, May. _Really_. Just tired."

"When Tony called to tell me you were sick, and I _knew_ he was trying to keep me from being worried – which told me it was serious – I just panicked. I thought you were with Ned?"

Peter tried to remember what he'd told her about where he was going to be, but he couldn't remember. It would have been a good cover story though. One he'd used many times before.

"I don't remember," he admitted. "I'm sorry I scared you. I thought I was just catching the same cold everyone else had."

She squeezed his hand and then let him go and sat up a little, wiping her eyes when she let him go.

"Don't scare me again, Peter. Not like this."

"I'm sorry," he repeated, lamely. "Are you alright?"

She nodded and gave him a smiled that looked as tired as he felt.

"Did they tell you where you are?"

"No." Yes? He thought back on the previous conversations and realized they had. But she told him before he could correct himself.

"The Avenger's facility. Tony said the doctors here are the best."

"Wow." Peter looked around the room again, but it didn't look all that fancy to him. Similar to most of the hospital rooms he'd ever seen in the movies – although there were no windows. "Have you seen any of them?"

"The doctors?" May asked. "I've seen Doctor Strange and-"

"The _Avengers_ ," Peter interrupted. "Have you seen any of the Avengers?"

"I wouldn't know them if I did," May had to admit, shrugging. "We can go looking for them once you're on your feet." She stood up. "I'm going to let you go back to your nap. You look tired."

"So do you."

"I am. But I'm going to go get some sleep. I'll come see you later, okay?"

"Yeah."

He was asleep before he closed the door behind her, and this time the dreams stayed away.


	3. Chapter 4

Rattling noises woke Peter the next morning from a restless sleep filled with odd images and people talking in his head. He opened his eyes and looked around and saw a woman settling a tray on his bedside table while at the same time looking at what he knew was the chart that hung beside the door to his room.

"You're still fevered," she said, looking down at him with a slightly concerned expression.

"Sorry."

He really didn't know what to say to that. He glanced around, trying to get his bearings, and realized he did feel warm. But he was also really tired. For all that his room was quiet, he wasn't sleeping well. His head ached continuously and sometimes even with his eyes closed he felt sick and dizzy.

"Don't be," she told him, pulling his blankets up a bit and tucking them around him. "We'll figure it out." She brushed a hand against his cheek and forehead, her expression friendly enough, but intense, "I'm trying to figure _you_ out, though, Peter Parker…"

He frowned.

"Me?"

"Who are you?"

"What?"

"Come on…" she looked at his chart again. "What's your secret identity?"

Peter felt a moment of panic, uncertain how to answer that – or what to say to change the subject.

"I…"

"Are you an exiled prince?" she asked. "Hiding in America until the evil uncle is overthrown and you can take your throne back?"

"What? No."

"In witness protection? Tony Stark's love child?"

"Who _are_ you?" His head was spinning and an ache was forming behind his right eye.

She smiled a soft apology, realizing that he wasn't quite up to the interrogation she was putting him through.

"Christine Palmer. I'm a friend of Stephen's."

"Stephen?"

"Doctor Strange."

"Oh."

"You must be someone special, Peter. Stephen is about as retired from Neuroscience as one can be, but Tony Stark managed to get him out here to keep an eye on you – and he brought me in to consult. Stephen would rather chop off his own leg than ask me for a favor, so like I said, you must be someone special."

"You're a doctor?"

"An ER doctor, yes."

"Cool."

Christine smiled.

"It's a lot of work and a ton of stress." She held up his chart. " _You_ are proving to be a bit of a mystery. I'll solve it, though. I always do."

"I'm okay."

"This tells me otherwise," she corrected him. "But no worries. You're in good hands here. Now, eat your breakfast before you fall asleep again and I'll be back to check on you later."

"Thank you, doctor."

"You can call me Christine." She gave him another searching look as she made sure everything was where he could reach it. "Should I call you 'your highness'?"

"No."

"Damn."

She flashed him another smile and hung his chart back up before leaving. Peter stared at the closed door for a minute, feeling like the entire world was just turning upside down on him suddenly, and then turned his attention to his meal and hoping that it would somehow make the pounding in his head stop.

OOOOOOOOOOO

When Stephen Strange returned to check on how his patient was doing, he was rather surprised that Peter wasn't alone. He wasn't surprised that the boy was asleep, though. When he'd spoken with Christine an hour ago she'd told him that Peter looked no better, and his fever was still high. Maybe not dangerously high, but too elevated for either of them to be happy about it.

"What are you doing here?" he asked Tony Stark, who was in the chair next to the boy's bed, with his feet propped up on the edge of the hand rail doing something with a tablet in his lap.

"Research."

Stark didn't get up, but he did keep his voice down to avoid waking Peter.

"Don't you have an office here?"

"Yeah, but Pepper has claimed it for her own."

Strange smiled at that. It was so unusual for someone as arrogant and narcissistic as Stark was to be so whipped. The doctor looked for Peter's chart and frowned until he saw that it was on the bed next to Tony's leg. Picking it up as he walked around the bed, he checked the chart and then the simple monitors that they had attached to Peter to keep tabs on his vital signs.

"How's he doing?" Tony asked, waiting until Strange had looked through the information.

"He's sick."

"I _know_ that. Why?"

Strange shrugged.

"He shouldn't be, Tony. Not like _this_. You told me that his friend had the same thing?"

"Yeah. His aunt said that his friend was down for a couple of days. Headache, fever, weird dreams, even."

"But now he's fine?"

"Yeah. Three days at the most. And a few others at his school – but they're okay, too. I checked."

Strange didn't even ask how he'd checked.

"Then Peter should be, too. What's different?"

"You mean besides the _obvious_?"

"That shouldn't make any difference. If anything, he should be getting better faster."

Stark gestured toward the boy, who looked miserable even when asleep.

"He's not."

"I know." Strange frowned at the chart he was still looking at. "He's fevered, and obviously exhausted. His brain activity is off the charts but without a baseline, that could just be normal for him. You said his senses are heightened?"

"Yeah, he pretty much has to wear blinders to keep things filtered out."

"How much trouble would it be to bring the friend here?"

"Why would you do that?"

"Because his friend is well and Peter isn't. We might be able to learn something."

"We can't experiment on him."

"We can run some simple tests. Nothing invasive. It might help me figure out what's going on."

"I'll take care of it."

"Good. Are you going to stay here?"

"Yeah."

"Have someone come get me when he wakes up. I want to run some tests with him awake."

"Should he be sleeping so much?"

"It's what the body does to heal itself."

"But it isn't _working_."

Strange nodded. He didn't know Stark that well but he'd have to be blind not to see the concern in the other man's expression and the worry he was trying to hide. Maybe he wasn't quite as bad as he thought. He gave him a slight smile

"I'm the best, Tony. We'll figure it out."

He handed Tony the chart and rested his hand on his shoulder for just a moment before leaving the room. Stark rubbed his face, tired even though it was still relatively early in the day and went back to his vigil.


	4. Chapter 5

_Pain and dizziness. Confusion and despair. Hands holding him down when all he wanted to do was writhe in agony. Cool cloths leaving a trail of temporary relief and voices cutting through the darkness. One he knew and one he didn't._

" _What's wrong with him?"_

"Everything _."_

" _More specific, please."_

" _Fever, delirium, seizures… you name it. We've got to get the fever down or he's not going to make it."_

" _He_ has _to make it. What do you need?"_

" _Someone better than me."_

" _Who?"_

" _The fever can be because of the same sickness the other kids have. The seizures, the delirium… those are neurological. Someone who can figure that out."_

" _Who's the best?"_

" _He's retired. Had a bad accident and now no one ever sees him."_

" _Did he die?"_

" _No."_

" _Then find him – and bring him here."_

" _He won't come. I'll find you someone else."_

" _No. If he's the best, then he's the one I need here. Find him._ I'll _convince him to come."_

Peter jerked awake with a start, gasping as he shifted from restless sleep to immediate awareness without a cushion of time that allowed the brain to sift through each sensation to allow a gentle transition from one state to the next. He sat up, his head pounding to the same frantic rhythm that his heart was.

"Easy."

Tony hadn't left the boy's side for more than a few minutes at a time, keeping himself distracted from his worry by checking on the progress of several different projects he had going on, both at home and right there at the Avenger's facility. He'd immediately set his tablet aside when Peter started tossing in his sleep, mumbling incoherently and wincing as the pain he was feeling was pulling him from whatever weird dreams were haunting him. He'd moved the handrail and was now seated on the edge of the bed, and was still startled when Peter had bolted upright, looking around wildly. He reached out and put a steadying hand on the boy's shoulder, to keep him from falling out of bed and to give him something to ground with.

"Mr. Stark."

At least it wasn't a question this time. Tony decided that that was an improvement.

"Yeah. You okay?"

The wild look was starting to fade, at least, but Peter shook his head. At that moment he looked scared, pale and very young.

"I don't feel good."

Tony nodded, tightening his grip on his shoulder.

"We're working on that. Bad dreams?"

"Yeah." He looked around, clearly trying to get his bearings. " _Maybe_. I don't remember."

"Well don't worry about it," Tony told him. He gave the shoulder a final squeeze before letting him go and started to stand up. "Take some deep breaths and try to relax. I'm going to go get Strange. He said he needed you awake for some tests."

Peter reached for him, catching his arm before he could get out of reach.

"Don't-"

He stopped himself, because he didn't know what it was he was even objecting to. Taking tests that might find more problems, more people asking personal questions when he didn't know who knew what and who wasn't supposed to know – or maybe he didn't want to be left alone. No matter which, all the reasons were stupid ones, and the last thing he wanted was to look stupid in front of Tony Stark. Luckily, Tony seemed to understand his confusion and he sat back down on the edge of the bed, his eyes holding Peter's as he did so.

"I know it's overwhelming," he said. He didn't say _scary_ , but they both knew that it was scary, too. "But we're going to run some tests, figure out what's going on and take care of it so we can get you back to crime fighting in no time. The fever isn't as bad as it was when we brought you in, so there's improvement. It won't be long. Trust me."

"I do."

"Good." He felt the weight of that trust on his shoulders but he didn't let it show. Peter needed tough love sometimes, maybe, but this wasn't one of those times, and Stark knew it. This was a time to give support, and Tony had that to spare – even if it wasn't something he was good at showing. He pulled his arm free, gently, and stood up. "I won't be long. Stay awake, okay?"

"Yeah."

OOOOOOOOOOOOO

True to his word, he was only gone for about ten minutes. Of course, even though he'd spent most of his time in Peter's room he knew the few places where Strange might be, and had found him in the first place he'd checked. The two men were talking when they entered the room, and each went to a different side of the bed, Stark relinquishing the lead to the doctor, who once more checked the machines that were keeping tabs on his patient.

"How do you feel?" he asked Peter when he finally looked up from the readouts. "And be honest. I need to know what we're dealing with."

"I ache."

"Where?"

"Everywhere."

"Dizziness?"

"I fell when I went to the bathroom just now."

Which was unheard of when swinging through the skyscrapers of New York was his usual norm.

"Close the door, Tony."

He waited until Stark did as he was told, and then began to question Peter thoroughly. Even the boy knew he was trying to understand what Peter normally was capable of, since the questions centered mostly on his abilities. He also asked him about his childhood, whatever he could tell him about his parents and any kind of injuries he may have suffered previously. Especially head injuries. Peter was as honest as he could be, and Stark learned a lot about the young man in the next hour.

Then the questions turned to neurological tests, with Stephen running Peter through an exhausting battery of visual, mental and dexterity assessments, all the while watching the boy's reactions and making mental notes that he'd put down on paper later. These tests were all done with Peter still in his bed, but then Strange had him stand up and they went through a few more, with the doctor keeping a steadying hand on the boy's elbow whenever he stumbled.

"Tony's told me some of the things he's seen you do," Stephen finally said when they had finished the last of these. "But I'm curious to see for myself the wall climbing. Do you mind?"

Peter was tired, but he shook his head and took a few wobbly steps over to the wall near the door. A moment later he was as high as the ceiling, with Stark hovering close underneath him, worried that he'd lose his concentration and fall. Strange simply watched in amazement, unable to believe what he was seeing even though Peter himself had described it during the questions. He just hadn't been able to think of it as anything other than a trick until he'd seen it for himself.

"Come down," Tony told Peter, not allowing himself to breathe easily until he had the boy back on his feet and was walking him to the bed.

"That's amazing," Strange said, taking Peter's hand and feeling the fingertips. They didn't feel any different than his own. "Can you do it consciously? Or do you have to think about sticking?"

"It just happens."

As much as he would have loved a longer demonstration, he knew his patient needed a break. His legs weren't just wobbly, they were literally shaking.

"I'll go over the tests as soon as I've had a chance to get something to eat," he said, both to Peter and Stark. "I want to go over the environmental tests from the school grounds and buildings again, too. I'll probably be back, though," he warned Peter as they settled him back into his bed.

"Okay."

Strange sat on the edge of the bed, echoing the same position Tony had taken on the other side. His gaze was intense as he brushed his fingers along his goatee.

"Do you want me to medicate you? I can give you something to make you sleep." They'd discussed the dreams when he'd been questioning him, but Peter hadn't been able to tell him any more about them than he'd been able to tell Stark. "There might be some side-affects, but we can get someone to keep an eye on you to avoid anything unpleasant."

"I can watch him," Tony said.

Strange shook his head.

"You need some sleep, too. You look like hell."

Stark scowled and started to say something, but Peter spoke up before the two could argue about it.

"I'm okay."

"Take a nap, then, if you can," the doctor told him. "Then we'll feed you some dinner and give your aunt a chance to say hi for a while."

"Okay."

"I'll stay here for a while," Tony said, stubbornly, as if daring either of them to tell him he couldn't. "I have a few things I need to do after dinner, so May can have him to herself."

"You don't have to stick around, Mr. Stark," Peter said, feeling like the biggest imposition in the world. He knew how busy Tony was and knew he had a lot of other things to do rather than keep him company or baby-sit him. "I'm just going to be sleeping."

Tony shrugged.

"I don't _have_ to stick around," he replied. 'But if I'm in here, everyone else will leave me alone."

It wasn't exactly the truth, but it was close enough, and he liked the fact that Peter looked a little less guilty when he said it.


	5. Chapter 6

" _Peter_!"

Someone was shaking him roughly, and the excited stage whisper immediately told him who it was. He opened his eyes, looking around trying not to move his head too much. Sure enough, Ned was leaned over his bed, one hand shaking him, the other holding his phone up to Peter's face.

"Ned, what are you doing here?"

The last Peter remembered, he'd been talking with May, who had been sitting beside him in his bed, her arms around him in the position they had adopted so many times when he was much younger and had had a bad dream, or a bad day, or he'd just needed to be held the way his mother no longer could hold him. He didn't know how his aunt knew he needed that comfort – he didn't think Tony would tell, and he was pretty sure Doctor Strange wouldn't have caught on, but she had shown up after dinner, shooed Tony away and had silently joined him, wrapping her arms around him and bringing his head down to her shoulder. Then she'd held him and they'd simply spent time together. The contact was exactly what he'd needed, and despite himself, he'd fallen into a deep sleep, the best he'd had in days.

"You wouldn't believe it," Ned whispered, again, His eyes flashing with excitement.

"Why are you whispering?"

"Because you're _sick_."

Peter rubbed his face and sat up a little.

"Why are you here?"

"May called my mom yesterday and last night Mr. Stark came by and got me and brought me here."

"What?"

"This place is _amazing_ , Peter. I just saw-"

"Mr. Stark brought you?"

"Yeah. The car was so _cool_! You'd have thought he'd just send someone but he told my mom that he wanted to come get me personally so she could ask him any questions she had about what we were going to be doing, and-"

"What are you going to be doing?" Peter interrupted, still confused.

"Getting you better, I guess." He frowned. "You _do_ look terrible. Have you been having the crazy dreams? I had those one night and they were bad. The headache was the worse, though. I-"

"Ned…"

"Yeah, sorry." He sat down on Peter's bed. "So I get here, and Mr. Stark barely gets me to my room when your doctor comes in –"

"Which one?"

"Doctor Strange. Dude, that guy is _intense_ , isn't he? And a little sinister. Put a cape on him and some kind of crazy costume and he'd make a perfect super villain. He's even got the name for it. _Doctor_ _Strange_ …"

Peter couldn't deny that, but he actually was coming to like the doctor, and he certainly owed him.

"He's good at what he does. Then what?"

"He comes in and starts asking me all these questions about school, about where we've been with the others, and about me being sick and how I felt. He made me do all these coordination tests, wiggling my fingers and following his pen light and standing with my foot up in the air and counting to ten. Weird stuff. Lots of mental tests, puzzles and logic questions."

Which was similar to the tests he'd done with Peter.

"Thanks, Ned."

"He took some blood," Ned told him, showing his friend his bandaged arm. Now his voice went back to a whisper, and he looked at the closed door before continuing. "Did he take some from you? Would that give away your secret?"

"He knows."

"He does?"

"Yeah. But the woman doctor doesn't. I don't think."

"Who _else_ knows?"

Peter shrugged.

"I'm not sure. Just don't mention it to anyone, okay?"

"I just saw _Captain America_ in the hallway on my way here," Ned said, his voice getting excited again. He handed Peter his phone, and sure enough there was a selfie with an excited Ned and a man who was almost certainly Captain America. "He didn't have the outfit on, of course, but he was so cool! Has he been in to see you?"

"No. No one has, really." Peter couldn't imagine why he'd want to.

"Does _he_ know your secret?"

"I don't know, Ned. Probably."

His head was hurting worse. Ned was a good guy – and Peter's best friend – but he wasn't as restful a visitor as May or even Tony Stark, and Peter wondered how long they were going to let him stay.

"I think they-"

He was interrupted by a gentle knock on the door and Doctor Strange walked into the room, not looking too surprised to find Ned there.

"Gentlemen."

Ned stood up, quickly, taking his phone back.

"Hi."

"I need Peter for a minute, Ned. Do you mind?"

"No, sir. _Captain America_ told me they were serving breakfast so I'm going to go find out where." He couldn't hide the excitement in his voice at being able to name drop someone so famous, and despite his headache Peter's smile was genuine. "I'll see you later, Peter."

"Bye."

Strange waited until Ned had closed the door behind him, and then sat in the chair that Tony had vacated the evening before. He didn't check the chart or the machines this time but his gaze was as intense and direct as always, and Peter had an odd feeling that the man could see into his very soul.

"Head hurts?"

"Yeah."

"I'll give you something for it with your breakfast." He glanced at the door. "Does your friend know who you are?"

Peter nodded.

"He was worried about you taking a blood sample and finding out…"

Strange smiled.

"He's a smart guy."

"Yeah."

"Does he know that _I_ know?"

"I told him."

"Good. That'll make things easier. Did you get any sleep last night?"

"All night, I think."

"Dreams?"

"Not that I remember."

"I took some blood from your friend. I'm going to compare yours to his and see if we can find the reason he recovered so quickly and you're not. It'll help, having him here, I think. You should know that his neurological tests are off the charts, and he wasn't even bitten by a spider."

Peter smiled, proud that his friend had impressed the doctor.

"He's a genius."

"Then he'll fit in just fine here." Strange stood up and pulled the supplies he needed from the many drawers against one of the walls, while Peter watched, trying to think of a way to thank him for all the effort he was putting into helping him get better. Instead, he changed the subject.

"Where's Mr. Stark?"

"Sleeping," the doctor said, flashing a true smile that made his eyes warm. He pulled a rolling stool over and sat down, reaching for Peter's arm with one hand and a needle with then other. "I slipped a sedative into his orange juice this morning when he wasn't looking and made sure he drank it. Last I saw, Pepper was putting him into bed."

Blood sample taken, he wrapped Peter's arm quickly.

"He needed the sleep," the doctor told him. "And so do you."

Peter shook his head.

"It seems like that's all I'm _doing_."

"Real sleep is healthy and will help your body throw off whatever this is. At least it'll keep you going until I manage to figure out what we need to do to cure you. Tossing and turning with bad dreams will weaken you faster than you might think." He patted Peter's arm. "I've been talking to your aunt, and I _do_ think you'd benefit from a dose of the same thing I gave Stark – with someone here to keep an eye on you in case you have any reactions. Someone who knows your secret, just in case you talk in your sleep."

"You think I will?"

"Probably not, but we aren't going to assume anything. I'll need a while to go over these tests and do my comparisons, so it's time that would best serve you being asleep. I'll have your breakfast sent in, and a sedative instead of a painkiller – you won't need both."

"Thank you for doing this," Peter told him, realizing that wasn't enough but it was all he could think of to say. "I know I've been a lot of trouble…"

"You're a good guy, Peter. Good guys are worth all the trouble that comes with them." He stood up. "Eat your breakfast before you take the sedative, okay? I'll go talk to someone about keeping an eye on you."


	6. Chapter 7

_Author's note: I hope you're enjoying the story. I know not everyone is familiar with my writing style as I tend to go short chapter by short chapter. My schedule is a bit wonky and I only have so much time a day to write and post. But I like doing it, and it gives me a chance to lead into my stories a little. Just remember this isn't exactly following any particular timeline. Thanks!_

OOOOOOOOOOOO

Tony Stark was in a foul mood and the scowl on his face as he stalked through the corridors of the Avenger's facility only made it that much more obvious to the few people who happened to be in those same hallways. His head was pounding – despite the aspirin that Pepper had given him – and he'd wasted an entire day sleeping when he could have been doing something productive. Anything. Even worse, she hadn't even looked guilty for helping Strange slip him a mickey. She'd simply given him that smile that said she knew best and he'd have to deal with it. Which of course was true, since done was done, but he didn't have to like it. He couldn't yell at Pepper, but he could give the doctor a piece of his mind, and he had every intention of doing just that – as soon as he stopped by to check on Peter.

"Mr. Stark."

He was pulled from his brooding by Christine Palmer, who was coming from an opposite corridor with a stack of papers in her arms. He stopped, wondering if those papers had anything to do with a cure for what ailed Peter.

"Ms. Palmer."

"How do you feel?"

Which told him that she knew perfectly well how he was feeling. Strange had probably told her all about the sleeping pill, the arrogant jerk. He managed to choke down his annoyance enough to be civil – it wasn't her fault, and if he was being honest (and he wasn't in the mood to be honest, even with himself) he knew that he'd needed some sleep. But not _fourteen hours_.

"My head is killing me."

She nodded, giving him a sympathetic grimace.

"Did you take something for it?"

"How's Peter?"

She was used to dealing with Stephen, so Tony Stark wasn't anything she couldn't handle. She took the change of conversation smoothly, and allowed him to turn the topic without breaking stride.

"We've decided that it has to be environmental. It can't be a coincidence that others from his school got sick."

"The school's been checked," Tony reminded her. "I checked it myself."

He had, too. Not only had he done a scan in his suit for anything out of the ordinary, a small group of experts had tested the water, the air and even the spaces between the walls. Nothing had come up.

"The _school_ , yes, but the fact that it was a small group of students – including Peter's best friend – means it didn't necessarily have to have been something from the school."

"They could have picked it up somewhere else, you mean."

"Right. We've been focused on the school because Peter is something of a loner, but it's possible that he was infected somewhere else – or one of the other students was and passed it on to the Peter and the others."

"What is it?"

"We're still working on that."

"How's he doing?"

"Sleeping." There was a ghost of a smile when she saw Stark glower at the reminder of his own forced nap, but she didn't mention that. "He's holding his own, though. He's a tough kid."

"Yeah." But toughness could only get a person so far. "Thank you, doctor."

"You're welcome. Are you going to go check on him?"

"Yes."

"Have you eaten?"

"No."

"You probably should. It might help the headache."

"I will."

He turned one direction and she went another, leaving him alone to brood once more – but this time he wasn't as angry as before. Now he was back to being concerned. Stark knew Peter roamed all over the city, but like the doctors, he'd been focused on the school because the other kids had been sick, too. What if Peter had picked something up somewhere else and brought it home? They'd ruled out any of the kids going on vacation somewhere and bringing back a tropical disease, and as far as Tony knew, there were no new strands of anything going around. He'd checked that, too.

He came to Peter's door and knocked softly before opening it, mostly out of habit. The boy was in the bed, but he wasn't alone. Tony frowned and closed the door behind him, nodding to the man who was standing by the door, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest.

"Steve."

"Hey, Tony."

"What are you doing here?"

"I was told to watch out for any reactions to the sedative Doctor Strange gave the kid and get help if something looked out of the ordinary."

"Have you been here all day?" Stark asked, walking over to Peter's bed. The boy wasn't sleeping soundly; he looked as restless as he had the day before, and even asleep his expression was pinched with pain or discomfort of some kind.

"No. Only about an hour or so. Banner was here before me, and Natasha before him." Rogers walked over to stand beside Tony. "Who is he?"

"Just a kid I met up with a little while ago."

"With some interesting skills, I hear."

"You wouldn't believe them unless you see them. Why did they bring you in to watch him?"

"Because I can hold him down if needed. Strange told Banner that when the sedative starts to wear off the side-effects might start showing up. He's been doing that for about forty-five minutes, so I figure he should be waking up any time."

"Where is he?"

"Banner?"

"Strange."

"He left. Said he'd be back in a while."

Tony frowned. If there were going to be side-effects, then the doctor shouldn't have left.

"And you _let_ him?"

Rogers shrugged.

"The guy can walk through walls, Tony. What was I supposed to do?"

"He doesn't walk through walls, he makes – never mind. Where did he go?"

"No clue. He said he wanted to check something out. I think he took that other kid, though."

Maybe he was on to something, then. Stark nodded.

"Okay. Thanks."

"Are you going to stick around?"

"Yeah. I'll take over."

"You sure? I don't mind waiting, just in case."

"No," Tony shook his head. "I can handle it. Thanks."


	7. Chapter 8

Stephen Strange walked through the portal and looked around into the gloomy dusk.

"Is this the right place?"

There was no answer. He looked back and sighed, then reached behind him and pulled Ned through the portal to stand beside him. The boy was staring at him, a mixture of shock and awe frozen in his expression.

"Ned?" Strange was more amused than anything, well able to understand the reaction. "Is _this_ the place?"

Ned turned back the way they'd come, but there was only a blank wall. He reached out and touched it.

"How did you do that?"

"Magic."

"Some kind of technology? Was it a wormhole? Like on Stargate? How did-"

"It was magic."

Ned looked back at Strange, his expression brightening with excitement.

"You're an _Avenger_? I thought you were a _doctor_."

"I _am_ a doctor," Strange told him. "And I'm not an Avenger. I-"

"They won't let you in?" Ned interrupted. "Have you shown them your wormhole trick?"

"It's not a wormhole. It's a po-"

"They haven't let Peter in, yet," Ned said. "But they will. He's crazy amazing. Mr. Stark has been-"

"Ned. Concentrate for me, will you? Is this the place you were talking about?"

"I think so. It looks like it, but we walked here, we didn't come through a wormhole."

Strange didn't bother to correct him, instead he looked around, his gaze not missing anything as they took a couple steps into the fairly large rooftop garden that Ned had mentioned during their conversations earlier. It was one of many gardens in the city, utilizing the fact that the sun shone on the roofs of the buildings far easier than it managed to filter to the streets below. This one was neatly organized, with each plant in its own pot or a box and the small path that meandered through the entire roof area was made of neatly connected rocks of different shapes and sizes but all leveled with perfection.

"How did you find it?"

"Peter found it."

"How did _he_ find it?"

"I don't know. Swinging through the air, I guess. He said the guy that owns it said we could help ourselves to anything – Peter helped him with his cat or something."

"So you guys came here and harvested vegetables?"

"No. We just came to look at it. It's pretty. Peter said it has a good view of the sunset, but we haven't really checked it out, yet. He's been busy, and then we all got sick."

"Did you touch anything?"

Ned shrugged.

"Probably."

"Do you remember touching anything?"

"Sure. I'm a hands on kind of guy. I like touching things. They have different textures and-"

"Did Peter touch anything?"

"I don't know. Probably." Ned looked around. "Do you think the problem is here?"

"That's why we're here," Strange said. "To check it out." He pulled a large bag of bags out of nowhere, which made Ned stare at him again. "Come on, let's do a little harvesting."

OOOOOOOOOOOO

 _"Concentrate, Peter."_

 _"I can't…" the pain in his head was so constant that it was a distraction, and nothing he did seemed to make it go away. He turned his head one way, and then the other, but it was useless. The throbbing wasn't going to release him. "I need to get out of here."_

 _"Easy."_

 _"No." Maybe he could escape the pain. Or find a place to hide from it. He tried to get up, but he was tangled up in his own webbing, and when he opened his eyes to try to fix it the dizziness came back a hundred times worse, and he had to screw them shut before he fell._

 _"Peter! Calm down."_

 _Someone took hold of his arm, pinning him, but a stab of fear surged through him and he rolled away, trying to get loose. The grip tightened, and Peter tried to loosen it by rolling again. He didn't want to hurt anyone, but he couldn't stay where he was. He needed to move, to escape. To outrun the pain in his head and the ache in his stomach._

 _"Easy!"_

 _Now there were several voices, and many more hands. He lashed out once, and then again, crying in fear and pain as he tried to get free of the hands and of his webs, which were tangling him so tightly now that he couldn't seem to breathe. The panic had complete control of him, now, and he couldn't break free of it, or of the hands that were clinging to him and the weight that suddenly seemed to press him against the bed._

 _"Hold him!"_

 _"I am!"_

"Back up."

A stinging slap across his cheek broke the grip of the nightmare and Peter woke with another cry and opened his eyes. Several people were surrounding his bed, two of them actually on the bed, sprawled across him, holding him down and others picking themselves up off the floor next to the bed, looking decidedly rumpled. He held still, trying to understand what was happening, and hoping to ease the pounding in his head by getting his heartbeat under control.

"What-"

"Damn it, Peter, hold still…"

Tony Stark was one of those sprawled on him, he realized, belatedly. His lip was bleeding and his cheek was reddening. The other man – younger and blonde – was also showing signs of an impending bruise, and Peter realized that he knew who that man was, as well.

"What happened?"

"I'd say you had a nightmare," Steve Rogers said, levering himself off the boy and getting to his feet to give Peter some space to breathe and get his bearings. "Are you alright?"

"I don't…" He looked down at the webbing that had tangled him, but it wasn't webbing, it was his bedding. The torn state of the sheet showing that it had also taken some damage during the struggle. "Yeah." He wasn't fine, but you didn't tell Captain America that. "I'm sorry."

"No need to be," Steve said, looking at the others to make sure no one had taken any lasting harm. Stark was bleeding but he'd had worse, and Steve himself could feel his eye throbbing where an elbow – maybe Tony's – had hit him when they were trying to keep Peter from rolling out of the bed. Clint had been flung practically across the room, but he was agile enough to avoid hurting himself and had rolled when he landed, and Natasha was far too good at fighting to take damage from a brawl in a bed. She'd simply rolled with the punches and allowed her momentum to keep her from being hurt when the boy had lashed out at them in his fear.

"Thanks for the assist," Tony told the others, pulling a handkerchief and pressing it against the side of his mouth.

Steve smiled.

"I told you he was waking up."

"I know. Stop being right all the time. It drives me crazy."

He was just lucky that Rogers had insisted on sticking around – and that the others had happened by. Peter was a lot stronger than Tony was without his suit, and with the fear of his nightmare making him even stronger, it had been hard enough for them to hold him still while they tried to wake him up. Keeping him from hurting them – and himself – had been even more difficult.

"We'll leave you two alone," Steve told Peter, recognizing the embarrassment in the boy's expression and understanding completely. It wasn't his fault, but it was still an awkward thing to deal with.

"Okay."

Tony righted a chair as the others left the room, and Peter leaned back against the pillows, closing his eyes and wishing that he could disappear. He could hear Stark putting the chair where it belonged and then gathering up a few items that had tumbled to the floor during the melee.

"Peter."

He didn't open his eyes, figuring that the best approach was to hope everyone would leave him alone so he could just die of embarrassment all alone. After a moment, though, he knew that wasn't going to work when he felt the bed shift a little as Stark sat down next to him.

"Hey."

"I'm sorry. It was a bad dream. I didn't realize-"

Stark put his hand on the boy's shoulder, giving him a little shake.

"There's nothing to apologize for, Peter. Look at me." He waited until Peter opened his eyes and turned toward him. "No one is ever at their best when they're sick, believe me. And it's worse when you're _really_ sick like you are. Doctor Strange is going to have this thing figured out any time, then you'll be feeling better. Until then, we just try to avoid the nightmares. Okay?"

Like he had any control over that? He didn't say that, though, and he knew Stark was thinking the same thing that he was, but he simply nodded.

"Okay."

"Good." Tony didn't move his hand, figuring correctly that the boy needed some bolstering just then. "I'll get you some aspirin for the headache that I know you must have, and then we'll try to think if some kind of diversion."

He was good at making diversions, after all.


	8. Chapter 9

"Gin."

Peter sighed and put down his cards, trying to ignore Stark's amused expression as the man picked up the score sheet and made a new notation on the paper.

"You realize you owe me $17,556 now?"

"I _told_ you I wasn't any good at this."

"Statistically, you should be able to win at least 27% of the hands," Tony told him. "You've won…" he made a show of looking the sheet over, pretending to add by moving his finger in the air and carrying the one. " _Two_. Two hands, total. That's incredible."

"Just lucky, I guess."

The two of them were seated on Peter's bed. On the table beside it were the remains of a late dinner, and a deck of UNO cards. UNO wasn't as fun with only two people, so they'd switched to Gin, and Peter _had_ warned Stark that he wasn't very good at it. Tony had simply shrugged and pointed it out that it was a little late to go gather up people to play UNO with them and said he'd go easy. And he had. But Peter was right; he wasn't just _not good_ at Gin, he was really, really bad at it. On the plus side, eating a solid meal and spending some down time trying to match up cards rather than concentrate on how terrible he felt had actually eased Peter's headache a bit and he felt better because of it.

As they'd played they'd chatted about some of the projects that Stark was working on. Nothing too sensitive, but still technical enough that Peter found them interesting and even asked a question or two and offered up a couple of suggestions. Reminding Tony again that Parker was a very intelligent young man.

"You know what's lucky?" Tony asked, shuffling the cards once he'd gathered them up.

"What?"

"I'm going to let you make payments."

Peter smiled, and Stark was pleased to see it.

"That's awfully nice of you."

"I'm a nice guy," Tony said. "Ask anyone."

His phone beeped at him, drawing their attention to it. As late as it was – and it _was_ late – Tony was surprised anyone was still up. Peter saw him frown as he picked up the phone and read the message.

"Something wrong?"

"No." Stark shook his head. "But I _do_ need to go check on something."

"Avengers stuff?"

"Something like that. It shouldn't take long. I'll get someone to come and sit with you while I'm gone."

"I don't need a baby-sitter, Mr. Stark."

"Not a baby-sitter, Peter," Tony replied, getting up and stretching muscles that were stiff from sitting so long in one place. "But someone to keep up the distractions."

"I'll be okay. I'm not going to go to sleep." If he had his way, he wouldn't sleep again. Even though he knew that was impossible.

Tony didn't look convinced – and he wasn't, but he shrugged.

"Fine. Why don't you look up the rules of Gin while I'm gone? You've clearly missed something."

Peter snorted.

OOOOOOOOOOOO

Only a few minutes later, Tony Stark walked into one of the many labs that were housed in the lower levels of the Avengers facility. He tapped on the door, but didn't stop, looking with interest at the various baggies that Strange was stacking on the counter, with Ned labeling each one as they took a plant from one bag and put it into another.

"Where did you go? Farmer's market?"

Strange turned, already scowling, but then his expression changed just a bit and a smile ghosted across his features.

"Where did you get the fat lip?"

Stark scowled.

"It's not _fat_ , it's big-boned,"

"Who beat you up, Tony?"

"Your patient had a _nightmare_ and we got caught in the middle of it."

The smile was gone immediately.

"Is he alright?"

"Yeah. Just terrified to sleep – even though he's trying to hide it. Did you find anything?" he asked, gesturing to the baggies.

"We won't know until we test them. I have to admit I'm not an expert on this, so I'll do some reading."

"Is Peter okay, Mr. Stark?" Ned asked.

"He's fine. You can see him in the morning." The boy looked a little tired – and a lot grubby. Of course, from the looks of things, he'd been digging in the dirt, so it made a certain amount of sense. "Did you eat?"

"We stopped at Dairy Queen," Strange said. He wasn't going to let one kid get sick trying to take care of the other. Besides, after an entire afternoon and evening with him, Strange had to admit that Ned was a likeable young man, and very intelligent. A bit enthusiastic, maybe, but likeable.

"Did you know Doctor Strange can make wormholes?"

Tony looked at Strange.

"You used a _portal_?"

"I wasn't going to walk."

"We have _cars_."

Strange shrugged.

"My way was faster. Besides, it's not like Ned doesn't know how to keep a secret. Obviously."

"Can I tell Peter?"

"Not right now," Tony said. "You should probably get a bath – and some sleep. Tomorrow's going to be a long day."

The boy nodded. He might have objected, because as days went, the day he'd had had been amazing, but he _was_ tired and never really wanted to see another plant again.

"Can I help you tomorrow?" he asked Strange.

"Of course."

Ned took off the gloves that he'd been wearing while transferring the plants, and left, and Tony leaned against the counter, resting his weight on his elbow.

"You think it's a plant?"

"Christine does. Or something to do with a plant, maybe. We'll know more when we get these samples categorized."

"How long will it take?"

"I've already called up a group of lab techs. They'll take care of it tonight. I'm going to go check on Peter and then get some sleep. You should put some ice on your lip – it'll help with the swelling."

"I don't appreciate being drugged."

Strange shrugged, not looking at all apologetic, and unconcerned at the abrupt change of topic.

"You got some sleep, though, right?"

"So?"

"You're not going to do Peter any good if you fall on your face, Tony," Strange told him. "I know you're worried about him, but if you don't take care of yourself you can't take care of him."

"I can take care of him."

The two men scowled at each other for a long moment. So similar and not really willing to see it, or acknowledge it. Strange finally shrugged, and pulled off the gloves that he'd been wearing as well.

"Just do it my way, Tony. Or I'll tell Pepper."


	9. Chapter 10

Peter was absently flipping through the deck of cards when a soft knock gave him a moment's warning before the door opened and Stark returned with Doctor Strange walking beside him. The two men separated, each going to one side of the bed, and Tony sat on the edge of the bed instead of in the chair he might normally have occupied. Strange had automatically taken the side with the medical monitors, and out of habit he checked the stats even as he walked over.

"You're up late," he told Peter, reaching for his wrist to take a pulse. Just because the monitor was there it didn't mean old fashioned treatment wasn't necessary. Strange preferred to double check the technology whenever he used it. One never knew, after all.

"I slept all day," the boy replied.

"There's a lot of that going around," Tony deadpanned.

Strange ignored him.

"How's the head?"

"It aches."

"More? Less?"

"Less."

"Good." He looked at Peter's eyes, which showed how tired he was and how much the illness was taking out of him, but otherwise seemed clear. There was a bruise on the boy's chin, but Strange assumed correctly that it was from the same incident that gave Stark the fat lip and bruised cheek. "Bad dreams?"

Peter hesitated and then nodded.

"This wasn't the first one, though, right?"

"No."

"Then it isn't a side-effect of the sedative, it's probably related to the illness itself. You were delirious when you brought here. Nightmares would be related to that." Strange pulled a chair over to the bedside and sat down. "Tell me about the rooftop garden you and Ned went to."

Peter frowned.

"The garden?"

"Right. Who owns it?"

"I think it's a bunch of people in the building. The guy that runs the building showed it to me and said I could go there whenever I wanted,"

"Why?"

"I found his cat on my way home. I called the number on the collar and then brought him home. It wasn't a big deal, but the guy said that I could help myself to anything in the garden as a thank you. I took Ned there to show it to him."

"Did you meet this man as your alter ego, or as Peter Parker?"

"As myself."

"So he doesn't know you're Spiderman."

"No."

"Ruling out some kind of retribution for something Peter might have done unknowingly," Tony muttered. _Smart_. He had to admit that he hadn't thought of anything like that.

"Right." Strange examined his fingernails for a moment, more to gather his thoughts than any real need to. Although, like Ned, he could really use a shower after a day going through that garden. "We took samples from the plants, and the soil, and we'll go over them to see if anything comes up. Did you touch anything there?"

"A lot of things. I was thinking I'd see if there were any flowers May might like, but I didn't take anything home."

"All right."

"I can't see how a rose could make Peter so sick," Tony said, frowning. "Or the other kids, for that matter."

"Not necessarily a rose," Strange said, not getting annoyed by the question since Stark obviously hadn't meant the statement as a challenge. "Plants can be incredibly dangerous, though. They've been evolving for eons, each finding their own way to protect themselves from the environment around them. It's only natural that they'd develop defenses that we humans don't have an answer for."

"You think it's a plant?" Peter asked, surprised.

"Or something in the soil, or an herbicide the gardeners use. Or maybe we're not even close. It's a starting place, though. The timing is right and so are the participants."

"I didn't take anyone else there from my school, and other kids got sick."

"Ned said you two went there before school."

"Yes."

"Did you wash your hands afterwards?"

"No. Why would we? We didn't get dirty."

"Exactly."

"I don't get it."

"That's because _you're_ not a doctor, Peter. Trust me."

"Okay."

"I think we'll keep you on the sedatives at night. The sleep obviously did you some good."

"But-"

"Are you sure that's such a good idea?" Tony asked at the same time.

"Yes." Strange transferred his gaze to Stark, but it was clear that he understood why Peter looked so alarmed. "Sleep is more important than anything else at this point. If Peter is exhausted, he won't have the ability to throw this thing once we figure out what it is. The nightmares are a problem, I agree, but we can work through them."

"He's a pretty strong kid," Stark reminded him.

"Then you'd better find some strong people to stick around in case things start happening. Or restraints."

"We're not going to tie him down," Tony snapped, clearly believing that Strange wasn't taking the problem seriously enough.

"I don't want to hurt anyone," the boy said, softly, unwilling to be the reason for the two men to start in on each other. He wasn't really fond of the idea of being restrained, but he remembered how embarrassing it had been to have caused so much trouble earlier and didn't want to go through that again.

"You're not going to," Stark assured him, putting his hand on Peter's arm. "We'll figure something out."

"Don't worry," Strange told him, leaning forward intently. "Most of the time you'll be out like you were this afternoon. No dreams, no headaches, nothing. We can time the sedative wearing off and do whatever needs to be done within that window. I can't stop the bad dreams, but we can mitigate the potential damage they cause."

"Okay."

Tony didn't move from where he was, and didn't let go of Peter, but Strange stood up and pushed the chair back to its spot against the wall.

"We might have some answers as early as this morning," he said. "Hopefully something concrete. I'll check in on you later, and let you know what we find."

Peter nodded, but didn't say anything, wrestling with the panic that was building inside him despite the reassurances of the two men. It was enough to set his head to pounding more than it had since he'd woken up and he tried to slow his breathing to keep the fear – and the headache – at bay. Luckily, Strange wasn't expecting a response and didn't wait for one.

"Make sure _you_ get some sleep, too, Tony. I mean it."

Before Stark could do more than scowl at the threat he saw in Strange's expression, the doctor nodded goodnight to both of them and left, closing the door softly behind him.

"We're not going to restrain you," Tony said, mistaking Peter's pained expression. He tightened his grip on the arm he had hold of. "Don't worry."

"I'm not worried about that."

"What are you worried about?"

"All the trouble I'm causing."

"You're a _teenager_ ," Stark reminded him. He let go of Peter's arm and ran his hand through the boy's hair, hiding the affectionate motion by finishing the gesture with those same fingers ruffling his hair, messing it up. "You're supposed to cause trouble."

"Not like this."

"It'll work out," Tony said, shrugging. "You'll see."


	10. Chapter 11

_Author's note: Thanks for the reviews! Writing a new genre (for me) is somewhat daunting and it's good to have the feedback, or to know people are interested._

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Tony Stark was back at the same research lab fairly early the next morning. He peeked through one of the glass panels and saw that true to his word Stephen Strange was already sitting in front of one of the display screens, going over results from the technicians who were still swarming the room. Christine Palmer was sitting beside him and while Stark watched, occasionally the two would consult a tablet that was sitting on the counter between them. Tony debated going in and demanding an update on their progress but he decided not to. For one thing, he knew when they had something to tell him, they would. For another, he didn't want to break any momentum they might have had going by interrupting them. He knew how annoying that could be first hand.

Instead, he headed back to Peter's room, but didn't make it far before he saw Ned heading down the corridor toward him. The boy was eating a piece of toast and clearly excited to have what probably seemed to him to be free run of the Avenger's facility. He grinned when he saw Tony, and stopped.

"Hey, Mr. Stark."

"Good morning," Tony said. "What are you up to?"

"Peter's asleep, so I thought I'd go see if I could help Doctor Strange with anything. Unless _you_ need help with something?"

Tech like the Ironman suit was far more interesting than plants, after all.

"No, I'm good right now, thanks. Tell me you're having more than toast for breakfast?"

"I took this from Peter's tray," Ned admitted. "I already had breakfast."

"He didn't wake up?"

"No."

"Good. I think I'll go check on him, anyway."

"See ya."

The boy headed back the way Tony had come, and Stark watched him go for a moment before continuing on his way. He nodded a greeting to anyone who passed him, but didn't stop to chat with anyone else.

He didn't _really_ need to check on Peter. He'd stayed with him until the sedative had knocked him out the night before, keeping him company and distracting him with some stories about being Ironman since the boy hadn't shown any interest in continuing his phenomenal bad luck at cards. A medical tech had come by with the sedative shortly after Strange had left, but it was Stark Peter had leaned on when he found his legs a little too weak to walk to the bathroom, and Stark who had hovered outside the closed door, listening with undisguised concern for any indication that the boy couldn't handle taking care of himself while the tech changed the sheets on the bed and straightened the room up a bit.

Peter had looked wiped when Tony helped him back into bed, and the sedative had kicked in quickly once he'd taken it. Tony waited until he was sure there wouldn't be any nightmares and had left. He had a few things he needed to take care of, too, and the middle of the night was always a good time to get things done. He hadn't figured on Pepper, though. She'd been waiting for him and had promptly sent him to the shower and then to bed. He had to admit – only to himself – that both had been a good idea, and when he'd woken a few hours later, he did feel better. After a hearty breakfast, he felt even better.

May looked up when he entered Peter's room, and Tony thought that she was another one could use some sleep. Worry lines only made her prettier as far as Tony was concerned, but she was clearly tired. She was seated on the edge of Peter's bed, a book in her hands but wasn't really reading it. She smiled when she saw who it was, and put the book down.

"Good morning," Tony said, walking over and glancing at Peter before pulling up a chair.

"Good morning."

"How is he?"

She shrugged.

"Sleeping. But the doctor tells me that's what he needs most."

" _You_ should get some, too," Tony told her.

"I will. I just wanted to look in on him."

"He's getting the best care."

"I know." May flashed him a smile. "I can't thank you enough for what you're doing for him."

"You don't have to thank me at all," he said, sincerely. "It's part of the internship health care plan."

"Right." She held up the score sheet from the Gin game the night before. "Are you ' _you'_ or ' _me'_?"

"Luckily I am ' _me'_."

"He's a lousy card player."

"So I've noticed."

"I have to take care of some things today back in the city. Would you keep an eye on him for me until I get back?"

"You don't even need to ask," Tony said. "Do you want me to have someone drive you?" He knew she had her car, but tired and distracted, maybe it was better that she not drive.

"I don't suppose _Thor_ is available?"

He grinned.

"I'm afraid not."

"Damn."

She left not long after that, wanting to get going so she could be back if Peter needed her later, and Tony walked her to her car before heading back to the research lab one more time. Peter would probably be out for several more hours so he could spare the time to check on things before getting back to him.

The scene was pretty much unchanged from before, only this time Ned was working with one of the lab techs in a corner. Stark nodded to him when he looked over, but his destination this time was Strange and Palmer.

"Are we learning anything?" he asked, walking over to them.

Both doctors looked up but it was Strange who answered.

"Not yet, but we have started testing each of the specimens from the garden. Some will take longer than others for the results. I'll let you know."

That was pretty much a dismissal, even Tony could tell. But he didn't leave.

"Thanks."

"Did you get some sleep?"

"Yes, mom."

Christine smiled at that. Strange wasn't amused.

"Why don't you go check on Peter, then?"

Another dismissal, but Tony didn't have any reason to stay – or to antagonize either of them. Of course, sometimes it was just fun. He nodded.

"Why don't I?"

They would get more done without his help, anyway.


	11. Chapter 12

_Author's note: This chapter is a little short, sorry._

OOOOOOOOOOOOOO

" _My head hurts…"_

" _I know."_

" _I can't breathe."_

" _Yes, you can. Just relax, Peter."_

" _I can't breathe."_

" _Peter. You can. Just relax."_

 _The panic was overwhelming, the fear rising in him steadily, freezing him more than the cold water that he'd fallen into._

" _Mr. Stark…"_

" _Breathe, Peter."_

" _I can't."_

 _He gasped, trying to get out of the water, but hands were holding him down. Arms came around him, keeping him from swimming free no matter how much he struggled against them._

Tony had been sitting in the chair next to Peter's bed, part of his attention on the tablet he was using to keep track of the new tech he was planning to put in the new suit he was creating for Spiderman, but most of his attention on the boy himself. He'd been sleeping soundly, which was boring to watch but reassuring to see, with the monitor that was keeping tabs on his heartbeat making an almost hypnotic noise in the background. Then the rhythm had changed a little, pulling Stark's attention completely, his gaze going first to the machine, and then to Peter.

Bathed in a sudden sheen of sweat, the boy's face was once more pinched with pain and he started making soft whimpering sounds in his sleep.

"Not this time, kid," Tony said, softly, a touch of his hand activating his Ironman suit. Or at least, _some_ of the Ironman suit. His arms were suddenly enclosed in nitinol, and he stood up, pushing the chair aside and sitting on the bed close to Peter.

Peter mumbled something Stark couldn't understand, and Tony touched his cheek, hoping to pull him out of the impending nightmare with a touch.

"Peter, wake up."

When that didn't work Stark simply pulled the boy into his arms, holding him tightly against his chest with his chin pressed against the top of Peter's head to keep that still as well. The boy struggled, suddenly, but the suit helped Tony hold him still.

" _I can't breathe…"_

He wasn't holding him so closely that he was suffocating him, but he was close enough to hear the fear in Peter's voice.

"Sure you can," Tony whispered, his mouth close to the boy's ear. "Try."

"I can't. _Please."_

"You _can_." Stark kept his voice steady, and his grip secure. "Try."

"Help me…"

"I'm here, Peter," Tony told him. " _Shhhh_ … take a deep breath."

The boy drew in a ragged breath.

"Good. Now another."

He didn't release his grip, and he could feel the next breath almost as if it were his own. Peter's head drooped, falling against Tony's chest, and Stark ran a hand along the boy's cheek. It was wet with tears of fear and sweat from the fever that was still burning within him. Without jostling Peter he reached down and pulled the blanket back up over the two of them, tucking it around the boy's slight frame. The nightmare had lost this time, and Tony was a little overwhelmed by the rush of paternal reaction that went through him as he found himself in a position he never expected. He shifted just a little, realizing that he was planning on being there as long as needed to keep Peter asleep, and ran his hand along the boy's cheek again.

"I'm here, kid. I've got you…"

OOOOOOOOOO

"Got you, you little bastard."

Christine looked over Strange's shoulder, frowning.

"I don't know, Stephen."

"It fits." He turned, looking back at the photo on the screen for a moment, the information that was under it and frowning.

"Would the boys have touched that?"

"Why not? It doesn't even look _dangerous_." He turned to look for Ned and then remembered that he'd sent him to take a break hours ago and get some lunch or an early dinner.

"It says that it has to be ingested in large quantities."

"Most commonly, yes, but you know as well as I do that different people can have different reactions." He read from the screen, even though he knew she'd read it along with him the first time. "Raw nutmeg may produce the intoxicating effects of myristicin which can lead to a physical state somewhere between waking and dreaming; euphoria is reported and nausea is often experienced. Myristicin is also known to induce hallucinogenic effects, such as visual distortions. Nutmeg intoxication has an extremely long delay before peak is reached, sometimes taking up to seven hours, and effects can be felt for 24 hours, with lingering effects lasting up to 72 hours."

"The other kids got better after three days."

"Yes."

"But why didn't Peter?"

"Because myristican is also a naturally occurring _insecticide_."

Strange grabbed it tablet off the counter, got up and headed for the door.

"But what does _that_ have to do with anything?" Palmer asked, exasperated.

"Just start looking up ways to counter it. I need to go find Ned."

She scowled again, watching him leave, and then shook her head, still annoyed. Nothing new there, though. The man drove her crazy all the time. She moved to the spot he'd vacated and started scrolling through the material on the screen.


	12. Chapter 13

" _Tony…"_

The voice that whispered his name was accompanied by a hand on his shoulder, and Stark came awake suddenly, only just remembering not to make any sudden motions. Instead, his grip on Peter tightened imperceptibly and he looked around to see if it had been Peter who woke him. His eyes were closed, though, and his even breathing told Tony that he was still out.

The hand shook his shoulder just enough to draw his attention and he turned his head and saw that Strange had entered the room without him noticing.

"I fell asleep?"

"Yes."

If the other man thought it was odd to find him holding Peter while he slept, he didn't say anything, and there was no amusement in his expression just then.

"He had a nightmare."

Strange nodded. That was pretty much what he had decided when he'd come looking for Stark. The boy's head was resting on Stark's chest, one arm draped over him and the other tucked between them, resting quietly despite the flush of fever that seemed to radiate heat. Tony had fallen asleep with his body propped up by the pillows, his arms loosely holding Peter against his side and still ready for anything the boy might throw at him while he slept. He hadn't woken up when Strange opened the door, or while he'd silently checked the chart and the monitor, and the doctor had almost decided to leave the two of them to get as much rest as possible, but he didn't like the temperature he was looking at.

"That's what I figured." The doctor leaned over and ran his hand along Peter's forehead, now, and down the exposed cheek. "His fever is up."

"Yeah." Tony could feel the heat against his side and his chest. "What do we do about that?"

"Tylenol, for now."

"You don't have anything stronger?"

"I do, but we might have figured out what caused his illness and I don't want to risk giving him anything _now_ that might interact with whatever we come up with during the next few hours. Tylenol will cut it back, hopefully. We can use some cold compresses as well, if needed."

"What is it?" Tony asked, sitting up a little more, but trying to hold his body as still as possible to avoid disturbing Peter.

"Nutmeg."

"What?"

"It's growing in that garden, Ned confirmed that the two of them rubbed some in their hands to smell it, and it causes almost all of the symptoms I'm seeing. Normally it would run its course in hours – or a few days – but it's also an insecticide, and although spiders aren't actually an _insect_ , I'll bet that's why it knocked Peter down so hard."

Tony frowned. He couldn't have heard that right.

" _Nutmeg_?"

"As odd as it sounds, yes. _Raw_ nutmeg, not the kind that goes in your eggnog."

"I don't like eggnog."

"You're weird."

Tony didn't reply to that. He looked at the sleeping boy.

"Should I wake him?"

"No. I'd rather he slept. I'll put the IV back to administer the Tylenol and to hydrate him. Where's his aunt?"

"She went into the city."

"Does she know who he is?"

"No. He doesn't _want_ her to know, either."

Strange nodded.

"You'll stay with him?"

"Yeah."

"Do you need anything?"

"You might tell Pepper where I am."

She probably guessed, but if someone let her know, he'd appreciate it.

"I'll get what I need for the IV and be back in a while."

"Thanks."

Strange nodded and left, and Tony sighed, reaching for the tablet he'd discarded earlier with the hand that wasn't holding Peter. He definitely wanted to do a little research now.

" _Nutmeg_ …"

The hell.

OOOOOOOOOOOO

"Nutmeg?"

Strange nodded, used to the reaction by now. He'd spoken to two others on his way to find Pepper for Stark and both had asked him about Peter's progress. Since Steve Rogers was sporting a black eye thanks to the same nightmare that had given Tony his fat lip, Stephen hadn't seen any reason not to share his diagnosis when he'd been asked. Rogers had simply shaken his head and thanked the doctor, walking off with Banner beside him.

"That's our _initial_ finding," Strange told Pepper. "We could be on the wrong track."

"But you don't think you are?"

"No. I'm pretty sure. It sounds right and _feels_ right, if that makes any sense?"

"It does." She was used to Tony, who was brilliant like Stephen Strange, and still used _his_ gut when trying to reason out problems and puzzles, too. "He's with Peter?"

"Yes."

"Does he need anything?"

"He said he didn't, but I don't know him very well, so I doubt he'd mention anything to me."

Pepper nodded.

"Thank you."

"My pleasure."

Strange excused himself and Pepper debated going and checking on Tony and Peter. She had to admit she really wanted to see for herself the scene Strange had described to her. Tony wasn't above displays of affection with her, but she knew he didn't like to acknowledge that there was a deeper side to him when it came to interacting with others. She knew he _liked_ Peter, but he hadn't really admitted it until he'd gotten so sick. It was a huge reversal for a man who liked it when people thought he was self-centered. She decided she'd go see if there was anything he needed.

OOOOOOOOOOO

"Nutmeg…"

Tony was careful to keep his voice down but he couldn't stop himself from muttering as he read more about Strange's suspected cause of Peter's illness. Who'd have thought that plants were so dangerous? Obviously Stephen Strange had, since he'd been thinking along that exact same line since Tony had convinced him to come and figure out what was wrong with Peter. The man really was a genius. Tony liked that. He liked surrounding himself with intelligent people who could challenge him. He wondered what it would take to convince Strange to stick around a while. Someone else could probably watch the Sanctum Sanctorum for a while. Maybe.

Tony looked up when he heard the door open, expecting that it was Strange returning, but was surprised to see Pepper walking in instead, a tray in her hands. She smiled when she saw him awake, and he wondered if it was because she was pleased to see him or if it was because he had Peter Parker cuddled next to him. He decided that it didn't matter. He liked it when she smiled – especially when he knew that smile was only for him.

"Is he alright?" she asked, softly, bringing the tray over to his side of the bed and setting it down within reach.

"He will be."

She saw his arm tighten just a little on Peter's side but hid her smile.

"I thought you could use some dinner."

"Thank you."

He didn't reach for the sandwich on the plate, though. Instead he set the tablet down and took her hand, squeezing it lightly. Yes, he was there for Peter, who needed him just then, but Pepper was there for Tony, and he knew it. And appreciated it. Even if he never told her enough.

She leaned over and kissed him, lightly.

"You're welcome," she whispered. "Let me know if you need anything."

" _Mom?"_ It was the softest of sounds, drawn from the depths of exhaustion, but they both heard it, and froze. Chagrined at waking him, even though his eyes never opened and he didn't move, Pepper brushed her fingertips against Peter's hair, feeling the heat from the fever Dr. Strange had mentioned to her. In one word she could hear the fear and longing both, and instantly understood the connection between the boy and Tony – even though he probably had no idea why he bonded so easily with Peter.

"No, sweetheart," she murmured. She brushed a soft kiss against his temple, unable to stop the maternal gesture. "Go back to sleep."

He mumbled something in his sleep, moved only enough to nod, and then was quiet once more.


	13. Chapter 14

It was well into the evening when Tony felt stirring from the form beside him once more. The arm that had been draped over his chest moved, taking the IV line with it, and Peter mumbled something in his sleep that Stark couldn't understand. Nothing new, since he'd been talking in his sleep a fair bit, even though Tony couldn't understand any of it. Whatever the dreams had been, though, they clearly weren't nightmares, because there hadn't been any thrashing or any of the panic that he'd seen before from the boy. He'd even released his suit command so he was just holding Peter with regular arms rather than reinforcements. When the arm moved, so did his head, and Peter looked up at Stark, confusion clear in his expression.

"I slept?"

Tony nodded. He was pleased there wasn't any panic, but it was clear the fever and illness were still in control. He didn't like how flushed he looked, or how muddled. Of course, he'd just woken up. Time to see if he could stay awake a while or if he was going to go back to sleep.

"You did. How do you feel?"

Peter rubbed his face with the same hand that had the IV and looked at it.

"I'm sick again?"

"You're sick _still_ ," Stark corrected with a slight smile, putting his hand on Peter's forehead to verify the information the monitor was telling him – and to give the boy a point of contact to wake up a little more. He was definitely still warm, but maybe not as hot as he had been. "We're working on it."

"Where's May?"

"She had some things she needed to do in town. She should be back soon."

He was a little surprised that she hadn't returned yet, really, since she'd told Tony that it was going to be a quick trip.

"Is she okay?"

"She's fine, Peter. Don't worry."

Now he was, though, and Tony wondered if somehow Peter caught his own stab of concern at the fact that she wasn't back yet. The boy sat up, catching his head with his hands as the headache returned full force with the sudden movement.

"I need to go check on her."

"She's fine, Peter," Tony soothed, trying not to undo all the good that the sleep had done him. "We'll call her."

He waited for an agreement and then reached for his phone and dialed the number from memory. Both of them could hear the rings but it went to voicemail.

"She's-"

"She's probably sleeping," Stark told him, looking at the time. "It's late and she's sensible. If she were tired, she would have decided to sleep before coming back. Right?"

The boy hesitated, but then nodded, relaxing a little.

"Probably."

"Good." Tony got out of the bed and stood up, stretching a little. "Now, are you awake?"

"Yeah."

"Then I am going to find you something to eat. We'll stuff you to the gills and then let you get some more sleep. Strange is close to figuring this thing out, we just have to keep you healthy until he does."

"Okay."

He didn't look completely convinced, but then, _Tony_ wasn't, either.

"I'll be back in a bit."

Peter nodded, and Stark left him alone, shutting the door behind him. He didn't head for the commissary, though, and he didn't go to the medical lab where he was sure he'd find Strange. Instead he went looking for someone else, and found him almost immediately, probably heading to one of the gyms to judge by the sweats and t-shirt he was wearing.

"Hey, I need a favor."

Steve stopped, ready to make a smart comment, but acknowledging the serious expression on Stark's face.

"What's up?"

"I need you to watch Peter for me."

"Where are _you_ going?"

"To check on his aunt."

"She's missing?"

"Not yet, but he's worried about her and I don't want him stressing." He frowned. "Peter has this sense when things are going to happen, and I want to make sure nothing has – or nothing _does_. It won't take long. Hopefully she just decided to stay overnight before coming back."

"Did you _call_ her?"

Tony rolled his eyes.

"It went to voicemail."

"Have Doctor Strange wormhole you in."

Stark hesitated, and dismissed that idea.

"He's working on this nutmeg thing. I don't want to – how did you know about his portals?"

"Tony," Steve said, putting his hand on Stark's shoulder. "I'm _Captain America_. I know things. I find things out, I-"

" _Ned_ told you."

"Yeah."

"Will you watch Peter for me?"

"Of course. Does he need anything?"

"Something to eat and a distraction until he goes back to sleep. Not _cards_ , though. If he loses any more money he's going to have to start selling organs."

"I can handle that." Rogers said, uncertain about the cards comment, but waving Tony off. "Go. Do what you need to do. I can handle things here."

"Thanks, Steve."

Tony left, heading for the closest exit, already activating his suit, and Steve changed directions and headed for the commissary. He _had_ planned on a quick workout, but a midnight snack wasn't a bad idea, either. Besides, now he could meet Parker under slightly better circumstances than the last time and get to know the guy a little. He had a feeling he was going to be spending more time with the Avengers once he was better.

OOOOOOOOOO

The flight to the city was fast. Most of the time when he was flying he couldn't help but feel the thrill of shooting through the sky at unbelievable speeds, but this time Stark was just filled with concern. He pushed for the most power he could get, worrying that he was going to find something wrong and that he was going to have to try and figure out how to tell Peter bad news on top of everything else he was dealing with. Tony knew how to find their place from the sky as easily as he could driving, and even if he didn't the suit was intuitive and would have gotten him there without much assistance. Which was good, because he was about as distracted as he ever had been. Friday was aware of his concern and was even quicker than Tony when they finally came within view of the apartment building.

" _May's car is parked on the street."_

Images of a fiery wreck were dismissed, then, and Tony breathed a silent sigh of relief when he landed on the roof and headed for the stairwell access.

" _We could look through the window_ ," came a helpful suggestion. _"That way we don't wake her up if she is asleep."_

"Kind of creepy, Friday," Tony chided.

" _Do you really want to explain why you're standing in her doorway at 12:30?"_

Tony stopped. Good point.

"Fine."

They didn't _really_ peek through the window. It wasn't necessary with the tech that Tony possessed in the suit. They hovered near the apartment and the entire apartment was scanned in moments.

" _She's sleeping on the sofa."_

"Is she okay?"

" _Vitals are fine."_

Another sigh of relief, and a smile.

"Let's get back."

There was a flash of light, and Ironman was heading out of the city as fast as he'd arrived.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Peter looked up at the knock on the door, and was struck dumb – _literally_ – when it wasn't Tony Stark that came through the door carrying a tray, but Steve Rogers. The man crossed the room and set the tray on the table then flashed a smile when he sat down in the chair by the bed.

"Hi, Peter, remember me?"

Peter nodded, staring, but uncertain what to say. _Captain America_ was bringing him dinner. He knew he had to look ridiculous, but he didn't have a clue what to say. Steve was used to it; he'd seen a lot of youngsters freeze on him in his time, both before the ice and after. He gave him a moment to respond, and when he didn't he filled in the conversation.

"I'm Steve."

"I know. What do _I_ call you?"

"Steve." Rogers gestured to the tray on the table. "I didn't know what you would like, so I got a little of everything."

"Thanks."

His stomach growled, reminding him that it had been a while, and he blushed. Steve chuckled and it broke the tension in the room.

"Eat. Then we'll find something to do to keep ourselves occupied."


	14. Chapter 15

The Avenger's facility was designed to run as a 24/7 operation, but night was the downtime for most activities. Tony Stark could be found working at almost any hour of the day in one of the labs he tended to use when he was in residence, but he was one of the few. Unless working with European colleagues the scientists housed at the facility worked during the day and kept nocturnal activities to a minimum. The facility was lit up, though, because there were workrooms, offices, the main control room and a well-stocked commissary that had to be available at any time, and it was a beacon for Stark as he made his return from his impromptu trip into the city.

He landed near one of the entrances close to Peter's room, but even as the Ironman suit disengaged he changed directions and went to check on the others, knowing himself well enough to know that once he was in with Peter he'd probably not be willing to leave. His first stop was Pepper, but she was sensible and was asleep. He watched her for a moment, but didn't want to wake her – even though he knew she wouldn't mind – and left without a sound.

On his way to the medical lab he swung by the VIP room that they'd put Peter's friend Ned up in, and he cracked the door just enough to make sure the boy wasn't staying up late eating junk food and playing video games. Which was exactly what he'd promised Ned's mother that he wouldn't let him do when he'd stopped by and picked him up in the city. Ned was asleep, too. A couple of busy days working with Strange and those techs that he had drafted to help him work on Peter's illness were taking their toll and the boy needed the sleep. Tony closed the door and left, and went to check on that progress.

Strange was standing in front of one of the hanging screens, flipping through data and various information when Tony walked in. He could hear a centrifuge whirring away in the corner, but aside from a lone tech looking into a microscope, the place was deserted. Stark went over to the doctor.

"How's it going?"

"We're getting close."

"How close?"

"Dating, but not fooling around."

Tony frowned at the analogy, but secretly decided that he liked it and might use it himself sometime.

"Still think it's nutmeg?"

"We _know_ it is. Now it's a matter of isolating the primary toxin that has steamrolled Peter. Once we do, we can develop an antigen and squash it."

"Anything I can do to help?"

The sincere offer made Strange smile, because he was starting to really _like_ Tony Stark and had a feeling that if the two of them ever found something that they could both do in a lab they'd be a serious force to be reckoned with. Medical research _wasn't_ that something, however. Strange knew he worked best alone in this sort of situation – which was why he sent everyone else off to get some sleep.

"Just stay out of my way."

Tony's answering smile was amused, because it was absolutely the answer he might have given in similar circumstances.

"I can do that."

"I doubt it."

Stark chuckled, and put his hand on Strange's shoulder for a moment.

"Don't forget to sleep."

"Yes, dad."

Tony left, still smiling, and decided that he didn't need to stop and get something to eat before checking on Peter. Steve was probably ready for a break from the monotony of watching Peter sleep.

OOOOOOOOOOOO

" _UNO_!"

A very feminine squeal of triumph drowned out three male groans – and one softly uttered curse that Tony heard even through the closed door of Peter's room. He frowned and opened it, stopping when he saw the small crowd sitting around Peter's bed, a pile of snacks and drinks at hand and a very cheerful Black Widow doing a little jig from her perch on the edge of Peter's bed as she held up the lone card in her hand – careful not to let the guys see what it was.

"What's going on?" Tony asked, closing the door behind him. Not that he needed anyone to tell him. Peter was in his bed with the rolling table pulled over it. Steve, Bruce, Clint and Natasha were all either in chairs or on the bed, gathered around and holding various amounts of cards in their hands.

"They're getting schooled," Natasha told him as he walked over to check on Peter. She wasn't even trying to pretend to be a good winner.

Tony glanced at the group and immediately noticed that Peter had what had to be half of the UNO deck in his hands, juggling them to try to keep from slipping out of his grasp. He looked alert, and when Stark put his hand on the boy's forehead it was warm, but not glaringly hot like it had been before.

"She's cheating, Tony," Banner said.

"You can't cheat at UNO," Natasha replied.

Tony picked up the scorecard that Steve had in front of him, and shook his head.

"I told you no cards, Steve."

Rogers smiled, completely unrepentant. He was having a good time, and so were the others.

"How was I supposed to know he was so bad at UNO? No one is bad at UNO, it's all luck."

"Ad skill," Natasha added, slapping her final card down on the pile and giving a slight bow when the others grumbled and started counting up their scores.

"Did you eat?" Stark asked Peter.

"He had a big dinner," Steve said before Peter could do more than nod. "And then we were going to play video games, but the cards were there and Clint and Bruce came by looking for me and Natasha stopped in…" he shrugged, and gave him a what can you do look.

"I said a _distraction_ ," Tony said, scowling. "Not a party."

"Stop being such a _mother-hen_ , Stark," Natasha said, smiling and still flush from her victory. "That's _my_ job." She wrapped her arms around Peter and gave him a hug, ending it with a kiss in the middle of his forehead. The boy blushed a brilliant red that made the men around him smile, and Tony lost his scowl.

"Come on, Tony," Banner said, gesturing to the end of the bed where there might be room for one more if everyone scooted over a little. "Play a few hands with us before we call it a night."

Stark hesitated, looking down at Peter again, just a little worried that the boy should be resting rather than upright and getting stressed from losing so spectacularly, but Peter looked like he was having a good time, and Tony was glad. And grateful to the others for being willing to spend time with him. He had plans for Spiderman, after all – and Peter, of course – and he wanted them to be a team.

"Fine." He grabbed a bag of potato chips and a can of soda and took his spot between Clint and Rogers. "Deal them up."


	15. Chapter 16

_Author's note: This chapter is a little short. Sorry. I'll make it up by posting again sooner_

OOOOOOOOOOOOOO

It was Steve who eventually broke up the card game. He was always aware of those around him – especially when they were _his_ people – and even though it didn't seem like he was concerned about Peter, he was watching the boy surreptitiously as they played and noticed immediately when he started looking like he was fading a bit. Not much at first, he was still losing spectacularly, but he was dropping the cards occasionally and at times he would play the wrong color on the pile.

"I think it's time to call it a night," Rogers said as they finished a hand – which Clint won. "It's getting late and I need my beauty sleep."

The others were just as perceptive as he was, and no one argued with him. They did mumble a few good natured complaints as they gathered up the cards and the remains of most of the snacks, standing up to stretch muscles that were stiff from sitting in one place for so long.

"We'll have to do this again," Natasha said, smiling down at Peter. "Maybe we can find a game you're _good_ at."

His answering smile was tired, but it had none of the awe that had been there initially, and Steve gave himself a mental pat on the back. He'd hoped that some spontaneous time with the team would make the boy more comfortable with them – and with _him_ – and it seemed to have worked. Even if it meant beating him at UNO. Now they could actually get to know the guy without the hero-worship being a barrier.

"Yes, it was fun," Tony told them, ushering them all to the door, but saving a bag of chips that Banner had picked up. "Go to bed, get some sleep. See you later."

When the door was closed he turned back to the bed and rolled the table away. His expression clearly showed that Steve wasn't the only one to realize when Peter started flagging.

"I'm _okay_ ," Peter said, understanding the look he was giving him. He didn't really _feel_ okay just then, but he didn't want Mr. Stark to know that.

Stark nodded.

"I know."

"We didn't have to stop playing."

He'd been having a good time.

"Yes, we did. It's been a long day. You might _think_ you're healthy, but that's just the drug cocktail in your IV talking. I haven't gotten you this far only to have you fall on your face at the finish line."

"I'm not going to-"

"I went to the city," Tony interrupted, sitting on the edge of the bed. "I checked on May for you and she's fine."

"Is she back?"

"No, she was asleep and I didn't wake her."

"Thanks."

"You're welcome." He pulled the blankets up a little, and pushed Peter back against his pillows a little. Someone had changed the IV bags while he'd been gone, because they looked like they'd last through the rest of the night. "Get some sleep, okay? If you're good, I'll let your friends come over and play tomorrow, too."

Peter smiled. His friends. _Captain America_. How wild was that? Of course, he just had _Ironman_ tuck him into bed, and that was even crazier. He started to close his eyes, but they opened again when Tony got up and walked across the room. Peter hesitated, but there was no way he was going to be able to ask the guy to stay with him after he'd just told him that he was fine and didn't need anything. Besides, he wasn't five anymore and didn't need someone to hold his hand and keep the bad dreams away.

Stark stopped at the door, and brushed his hand against the light switch, dimming what had been almost dazzling whiteness to something far more favorable to sleeping. Then he walked back to the bed and claimed the chair that Clint had vacated. He put his feet up on the edge of the bed and reached for his tablet, and Peter closed his eyes again, relaxing.

"Thanks."

Tony didn't answer, choosing to let the boy fall asleep rather than carry on a conversation. Instead, he muted the brightness of his tablet screen and pretended to surf the web while he watched Peter fall asleep.

OOOOOOOOOOOO

"Where did Stark find him?" Romanoff asked as she walked with the others toward the more permanent quarters in the Avenger's facility.

"I'm not sure," Steve admitted. "But he apparently has some interesting talents."

"He seems like a nice guy," Bruce said.

"Terrible at cards."

"Stark likes him."

"I like him, too."

There were murmurs of agreement to that.

Natasha smiled at Steve.

"You realize he was _waiting_ for Stark?"

Steve nodded. The timing was too good for it to be a coincidence. Peter hadn't shown any real sign of fatigue until Tony had returned, but once Stark had joined them it hadn't taken long for the boy to lose the battle with the exhaustion they'd all seen him fighting. He probably didn't even realize it was happening.

"I can't blame him. Not with those nightmares he's been having."

"Me, either."

Of course, Tony Stark wouldn't be _her_ first choice to turn to for comfort, even when sick, but she knew the man wasn't quite as egocentric as he projected. He'd probably even be a good role model for the boy. Or maybe the boy could be a good role model for Stark.

"Wonder how he is at Poker?" Banner asked, more to himself than to the others.

"He already owes Tony _thousands_."

They'd all seen the scoresheet.

"He can't be bad at all card games."

"We'll play for M&Ms," Clint said. "If nothing else, we get a good sugar rush out of it."


	16. Chapter 17

_The pain was unending, but it also helped him focus. His heart was pounding, his breathing was raspy and his body suddenly tense as he realized that something was happening. He looked around, feeling as though there was something he was supposed to be doing. Somewhere he was supposed to be. Someone was in front of him, but he couldn't hear what they were saying, and he couldn't see who it was – or even if it was a man or a woman. The pain left a red haze in front of him that he couldn't seem to penetrate._

 _He felt a wave of heat wash through him, like he'd fallen into a hot bath, but before he could even gasp, he heard his name._

 _"Peter. Shouldn't you be out saving people?"_

 _That was it. What he was supposed to be doing. He shook his head, trying to fight off another wave of pain that made him feel sick, almost like he was going to throw up and looked around. Of course he was supposed to be saving people. That's what Spiderman did, right?_

 _"It's a secret," the voice snapped, angrily. "No one should know. No one can know!"_

 _He started to reply. He knew that. He could keep it a secret. The voice didn't allow him to explain._

 _"Get up, Peter. Prove yourself. Save the world. Save your folks."_

 _Something was wrong with that, but he couldn't focus around the pain in his head to even start to understand what. The voice was insistent, beckoning, and Peter did what he was told. He'd have to find them, first, but then he'd save them._

OOOOOOOOOOOO

" _Tony_."

Stark woke with a start, sitting upright and finding Stephen Strange shaking his shoulder. He responded to the urgency in the man's voice and expression automatically.

"What?"

"Where's my patient?"

"What?" Tony turned his head to look at Peter, but the bed was empty, the blankets thrown back. The IV stand was there, but there was no one at the other end of the tubes. He sat up, alarmed. "Where is he?"

"I don't know," Strange said, moving toward the bathroom just to make sure he hadn't missed something the first time he'd looked. It was empty, though. "I came to check on him, but the door was open and he's gone."

Stark scrambled to his feet, looking at his watch. He'd been asleep for nearly an hour. Peter had been soundly sleeping, looking relaxed and only slightly fevered, and Tony had decided it'd be safe to nap. He'd been up for a while, and anticipated that he might have a long day ahead of him.

"We need to find him."

"Where do we look?"

Tony activated the Ironman suit.

"I'll find him."

He was already scanning the interior of the building as he walked to the doorway, with Strange right behind him.

"Where is he?"

"He's not in the building."

"Don't panic. Think. Is there someplace he'd go?"

"I'm not panicking." He _was_ though, and he knew it. He deactivated the headpiece of the Ironman suit and shook his head. "No. He doesn't know this place. He was unconscious when we brought him here. I've got to find him."

Strange grabbed his arm before he could head for the closest exit.

"Are there security monitors?"

"Yes."

"Then let's find him."

"That's what I'm going to do."

"My way is _faster_. Trust me."

They stopped at the first security console and Tony tapped a command onto the screen, interfacing the AI in his suit with the security monitors and cameras, searching for heat signatures in the nearby woods. With a place like the Avengers facility, no one would ever be able to sneak up on them. Unfortunately, the defense wasn't designed to keep tabs on people leaving. They watched as Friday scanned first the inner perimeter and then expanded the search.

"What was he _thinking_?" Tony muttered, furious with himself for letting this happen.

"He probably wasn't."

"He was fine, earlier."

"He's still sick. He could be delir-"

The screen beeped, interrupting Strange, and both men looked as the monitor focused on an area of dense woods. Since it was dark outside, they couldn't see anything, but the heat signature showed a form walking at a fast pace, if somewhat erratically.

"There he is!"

Tony started to turn for the exit once more, but Strange was faster. He pointed one hand and waved the other and suddenly the two men were in the woods, the night silent around them. Stark staggered, surprised by the sudden change of location, but Strange's hand was on his elbow, giving him the support he needed for just a moment. Then both of them heard rustling behind them and turned to see Peter stumbling toward them, his face ashen and his eyes wild. He was wearing the sweats and t-shirt Stark had last seen him in, but he was soaked and incredibly muddy.

" _Peter_!"

The boy flinched, trying to dart around them. He moved impossibly fast, which Tony already knew he was capable of, but Strange hadn't seen before. The doctor's hand waved again, and suddenly Peter was coming at them once more. This time Tony was ready, and he caught Peter's elbow in one gauntleted hand.

" _Let me go!"_

Peter writhed, dropping to the ground to try and release himself from the implacable grip, but Stark had a good hold and wasn't about to let him go now that he had a hold of him. He wasn't going to hurt him, either, though.

"Peter! _Stop_!"

"Let me go!" he shouted, again, twisting one way and then the other, whimpering when he couldn't get loose, but still trying.

To keep from hurting him, Tony just dropped down with him and grabbed him in his arms, pinning his arms to his side and overpowering him. The boy was taut, still trying to free himself, and Tony was struggling to keep him from sliding loose.

"Let me," Strange said, stepping up in front of the two of them, crouching down and putting himself in the boy's view where he couldn't be ignored. "Peter?" His voice was calm, intense, and not to be ignored. "Where are you going?"

"I have to _find_ them!"

"Who? We can help."

"They're _lost_ ," Peter explained, clearly not thinking straight, but at least not shouting. He was breathing hard, though, and Friday was advising Stark that his blood pressure and heart rate were off the scale. "I need to find them… to save them…"

"Who, Peter?"

"My parents."

Tony almost let him go, then, only from surprise. Strange looked at Stark, who shook his head, trying to tell the doctor a million things in that one gesture. Stephen didn't know that part of Peter's history, but he _did_ know that in the entire time he'd been trying to cure Peter, there hadn't been mention of parents being worried, or anyone saying that they should be arriving anytime. Only the aunt. He was smart enough to understand what that meant, and his expression grew soft, with just a touch of pity.

"Come with us," he said to the boy, his tone gentle, now.

"No. They need me."

" _We_ need you," Tony murmured, his mouth right by Peter's ear where he couldn't ignore him, either.

"I have to save them." He was sobbing, now, and Tony was holding him for a completely different reason, but still holding him tightly to avoid any potential escape. "I'm a hero, right? I can save them. I have to save them…"

Stark looked at Strange, who stood up.

"Let's get him back to bed."

"No," Peter said, trying to pull away. "I need-"

"Do you have him?" Strange asked Stark.

"Yeah."

He stood up, bringing Peter with him, and the boy started to struggle again.

"Let me-"

A moment later there was a portal in front of them, and Tony could see the medical lab in the terminus. He picked Peter up easily and walked through it, with Strange only a step behind.

"What do we do now?" Stark asked as the portal was dismissed and closed behind them.

"Hold him tight."

Strange waved his hand and a moment later there was a syringe in it. He took stepped up and bared the boy's hip and stabbed him with it, injecting the entire contents.

"What was that?" Tony asked, concerned. Suddenly Peter went limp, and Stark barely caught him as he slid through his grasp.

" _Trazodone,"_ Strange said. "Pick him up and let's get him back to bed."


	17. Chapter 18

"Will it hurt him?" Tony asked. He disengaged the Ironman suit with a touch. Peter was a slightly built kid and since he wasn't struggling anymore Stark could carry him easily, and without as much noise in the corridors. He didn't want to draw any more attention to what had happened than was absolutely necessary. For Peter's sake more than anything.

"Of course not." Strange watched as Stark picked the boy up, cradling him easily, and then opened the door for him. "It _will_ keep him knocked out until we get him settled. Probably even longer, depending on how fast he burns through it. It varies by the person. He should be out for an hour or so."

"Then what? Do we keep him sedated?"

Tony had to admit he was a bit unsettled by what had happened. Not only had _he_ allowed Peter to leave when he was supposed to be watching him – and God only knew where he'd have ended up if Strange hadn't come to check on him and raised the alert, but the scene in the woods had shaken him to the core.

"We can't," Strange replied, falling in to step beside him, their shoes making little noise in the hall. "That's why I used Trazodone. It won't stay in his system for very long. We're not far from the antigen and once we have it we can't risk waiting for something long-lasting to clear before administering it. _You'll_ have to decide what will work best to keep him in bed."

"I can figure that out."

There was a moment of hesitation.

"How did he lose his parents?"

Tony knew, because he knew as much as he could about Peter. It was the only way he could learn what kind of person he was before he'd actually gone to meet him.

"Plane crash."

"Recently?"

"No. He was four, maybe five years old."

Strange nodded, looking over at the boy whose head was resting on Stark' shoulder.

"When this is all said and done, you might consider have him talk to someone about it. A good psychiatrist could -"

"He's not _crazy_ , Stephen."

"Of course he's not," Strange said. "There's nothing crazy about wanting to have your parents alive and with you." Strange didn't know _Peter's_ background, but Stark was sure he'd checked on his own, and when he met the other man's gaze he found only compassion. "Talking about it would help. I could recommend someone."

Tony looked away first, ostensibly to gesture to the door to the elevator.

"I'll think about it. For Peter, I mean."

"Of course."

They were silent the rest of the way to the room, but it was a companionable silence, both men thinking their own thoughts as they walked. When they entered Peter's room the doctor turned the light back on and then held up his hand to stop Tony from putting him in the bed. As Stark watched, he waved his right hand and made a motion with the left, and suddenly the soggy sweats and t-shirt Peter had been wearing were replaced by clean blue pajamas, and the boy's hair was dry – albeit a little messy.

"That's handy," Tony said, impressed.

"I'm a handy guy to have around," Strange agreed, pulling the blankets back for Tony, who settled Peter in and covered him up. The boy didn't move or make a noise. With another wave of his hand a set of leather restraints appeared on the handrail.

"We won't need those," Stark said.

"Call it a contingency plan."

"No. There are enough people here that can handle him we won't need to resort to tying him down."

Strange shrugged, and the restraints vanished. He could understand the distaste for them, but figured if they were needed it wouldn't be that hard to bring them back. He knew Stark was already unsettled enough, even though he was trying to hide it, and he didn't want to upset him further. He set the IV up again with a new needle and taped it down to Peter's hand. That wasn't something he'd do with magic.

"Are you going to let his aunt watch him? If he has an episode it might reveal his abilities to her."

Tony hadn't considered that.

"I can't keep her away." And he didn't want to. "We'll work around that, too."

"Let me know if there's anything I can do."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

"For _everything_ ," Tony added, meaning it.

Strange nodded and left the room, closing the door behind him and Stark sat down, ignoring the chair in favor of sitting on the edge of the bed, as close to Peter as he could without touching him and maybe waking him up. He watched him sleep for a moment, and then allowed himself to reach out and brush a hand across Peter's forehead and cheek, aware that he couldn't wake him up just then with only a simple touch. Not with the potent sedative at work in the boy's system.

"We gotta stop meeting this way, kid," he murmured.

This time he didn't even pretend to be interested in his tablet or his research. He tucked a pillow behind his back to prop himself up and waited for Peter to wake up.


	18. Chapter 19

More than an hour later, Tony was in the same spot, his eyes closed but very much aware of the sleeping form that was curled up beside him. Peter hadn't done much more than mumble a few things in his sleep and moved enough to get into what must have been a more comfortable position. He was turned on his side toward Stark, who had rested a hand carefully on his shoulder, using the contact to reassure himself the boy wasn't going to move – much less get out of bed – without him knowing it. Besides, if he was honest with himself, he wanted the contact just then.

Twenty minutes earlier Ned had stuck his head in the door and checked on Peter, but few things were more boring than watching someone sleep. He'd offered to bring them some breakfast but Tony had simply waved him away with a reminder to get himself something to eat and to do any homework that he might have brought with him. Since he knew that the boy didn't have any homework, Tony assumed correctly that Ned would go exploring the facility or would present himself in the medical lab to offer his services as a glorified gopher for the people working on Peter's cure. Stark has shifted just a little, getting comfortable before resuming his vigil.

The shoulder under his hand moved, accompanied by a low groan. Tony opened his eyes, tightening his grip slightly on the boy's shoulder, just in case there was a wrestling match in the making.

Peter's eyes were open but they were dull with a mixture of medication and pain, and Tony felt for him.

"Mr. Stark…"

His voice was raspy, and so soft, but at least he recognized him. Tony would take it as a win.

"Yeah."

"What happened?"

"Nothing, Peter," Stark answered, squeezing the shoulder a little. "You're in bed and safe. Go back to sleep."

"I'm not tired."

It was an automatic denial, because his eyes closed almost immediately. Of course, his face was pinched with pain so the lights were probably too bright for comfort. There was a long silence, and Tony assumed he'd fallen asleep once more. Then Peter spoke again.

"You'll stay?"

"Yeah."

The hand with the IV moved just a little, coming to rest on Stark's leg. Obviously Tony wasn't the only one who needed the comfort of a touch just then.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Forty minutes after that, Stark was waiting for Peter to wake up again when there was a soft knock on the door and May walked in, looking worried but not as tired as she had before. She went over to the bed on the opposite side from where Tony was sitting next to Peter and looked at the IV, her nephew and then at him.

"Doctor Palmer said he had a bad turn last night?"

Tony wasn't sure what any of the doctors had told May, or what she _should_ be told, but he nodded, automatically watching to see if Peter was going to wake up if they were talking. He didn't show any signs of waking.

"It wasn't serious," he lied. "More of the delirium that he's already had." Which was true. Mostly.

She frowned and reached down and brushed Peter's hair from his forehead.

"He looks terrible."

"He'll come around once they figure out the antigen."

May shook her head.

" _Nutmeg_?"

Tony allowed a ghost of a smile.

"Who would have thunk, huh?"

"Did they tell you anything about why it hit _Peter_ so hard? Doctor Palmer said she didn't know, but that Doctor Strange seemed to have some kind of idea."

"What did he say?"

"He wasn't there. Christine said he was up all night and she finally convinced him to go get some sleep."

"We'll have to ask him when we see him," Tony replied. He had no problem lying to May, even though he _really_ did admire her, and liked her. "It's probably one of those things like one kid already had Chicken Pox and the other didn't so the second kid gets it worse."

"Peter's never had anything like this."

"He'll be fine," Tony said, trying to hide his own anxiety. "He was awake and playing cards with some of the others last night."

She smiled, looking for a scorecard.

"Now how much does he owe?"

"They were playing UNO. Just for points, not for money."

May nodded, and now her concerned expression was for him.

"You look tired. I can watch him for a while if you want to go get some sleep."

"No. I'm fine. Thanks, though." He ghosted another smile. "Did you get done what you needed to?"

"You're trying to change the subject," she accused him.

"Guilty."

She allowed it, and sat down on the other side of Peter, resting her hand on the boy's shoulder, lightly rubbing his arm.

"I had some work to get finished and then I decided it was too late to drive back last night. I was pretty tired."

"Sensible."

"I'm not done, though," she admitted. "This is the busiest time of year for me."

"Not the best time for someone to get sick."

"No. Not really." She didn't seem to be in any hurry to leave, though. Obviously she knew what was important.

"Did you eat?" Tony asked.

"Did you?" May countered.

He leaned back over the edge of the bed and picked up the remains of the bag of chips he'd rescued from Banner the night before.

"That doesn't count."

"What did _you_ have?"

"A muffin."

"Which is so much better." Tony gave her a slight smile. "Why don't you go get yourself something to eat? He's probably going to be sleeping for a while. I'll stay with him _now_ , and you can visit for a while later on, when he's awake and not so boring."

She hesitated, but finally nodded.

"You'll send for me if he wakes up?"

"Of course."

May slid her hand along Peter's arm once more and then stood up.

"I'll be back in a while."

"We'll be here."


	19. Chapter 20

" _Does May know?"_

" _No."_

" _Why not?"_

" _She'd worry."_

" _We could tell her."_

" _No."_

" _She doesn't know?"_

" _No. No. No."_

" _Want me to tell her?"_

" _No!"_

"Easy…"

" _Don't… Don't tell her."_

"Easy, Peter."

 _Strong arms were gathering him up, and he struggled for just a moment, certain that whoever it was wanted to hold him down while they went and told May his biggest secret. Something he couldn't tell her. Something that would freak her out._

" _She can't know. She'd worry."_

" _Who does knows?"_

" _I don't know."_

" _May doesn't?"_

" _No. She_ can't _know."_

" _Why?"_

" _It's a secret. She'd worry. Don't tell her. Please?"_

"Okay, Peter. I won't tell her."

" _She can't know."_

"I know."

" _Please?"_

"I won't tell her."

 _He stopped struggling and put his head down, exhausted. So tired from having so many things to juggle, and uncertain who could know and who couldn't. The arms loosened, but didn't release him, and he sobbed, taking the comfort that was being offered, stealing strength from someone else. Someone who knew his secret but wouldn't tell. Just for a minute he didn't have to be the superhero. Just for a minute._

" _Please?"_

"Shhhh… Easy, Peter. I won't tell."

Stark held the boy as he shuddered, careful not to tangle the IV line when Peter held on to him. The fever was back with a vengeance and he was clearly delirious, but he hadn't tried to fight his way free when Tony had pulled him into his arms, and he hadn't even needed to utilize his suit to hold him down. All Peter needed this time was to be held, and reassured that no one would tell May. Tony wondered if he shouldn't tell her, just so Peter would have one less thing to worry about.

" _Please?"_

"Shhh."

Peter was too exhausted by his illness to stay awake long, if he even was awake at all, and he settled down fairly soon. Tony held him rather than wake him by trying to shift him back to the pillows, but he didn't mind. Obviously he needed the support. Something they'd probably need to discuss once the boy was better. No one could do everything by themselves. It was a lesson Tony Stark had had to learn the hard way, but a lesson that Peter Parker would have explained to him. One life lesson blow that Tony could cushion for him.

He was still holding him ten minutes later when the door to the room opened and May walked in, holding a tray. He could see the concern on her face when she walked over, and she put the tray on the table.

"He woke up?"

"No. Just had a weird dream, I think. He's okay now."

He must have heard her voice, because Peter roused enough to turn his head toward her, but he didn't open his eyes or lift his head from where it was resting on Tony's chest.

" _Don't tell May…"_

She frowned, confused, and reached out to touch Peter's cheek.

"Tell me what?"

Tony hesitated.

" _Please?"_

May looked at Tony, expectantly, and he sighed.

"It's a secret."

"Mr. Stark…"

"Tony."

"What is it? I should know."

"You won't tell him you know? Or how you found out?"

"No."

"He's planning a surprise party for your birthday."

That was clearly the last thing she'd expected to hear, because the look on her face was completely blank.

"My birthday's a month away."

He knew that. He knew a lot more about her than she probably would be comfortable with. He didn't tell her that, though.

"It's going to be _big_ , what can I say? He wanted it to be special, but wants to surprise you. I was sworn to secrecy – and so was Ned."

"Ned knows?"

"He had to know. He'll be the one that decoys you."

Of course, now Tony was already planning some kind of huge surprise birthday party for May. He'd have to get Pepper to help him with that one.

"Really?"

"Would I lie to you?" He asked, blandly.

Her smile was tender as she touched Peter's cheek again.

"Is that why he's been so secretive lately? I thought maybe it was a girl."

"It is," Tony told her. "His _favorite_ girl." He was enjoying himself, now, pleased to see the worry leave her expression and hoping that he could get to Peter once he was awake enough to be lucid before May could so he could explain the subterfuge.

"Can I hold him?"

"Of course."

He waited for her to move next to Peter and then shifted him over to her. May took him expertly, brushing a kiss against his ear as she wrapped her arms around him, and Peter sighed in his sleep.

"I brought you some breakfast," she told Tony, gesturing to the tray, which he'd assumed was for Peter. "I don't know what you like, but-"

"Thanks." He got up and stretched just a little and walked over to the table, relinquishing the bed to her and Peter in favor of eating something that was more filling than chips. "So what do you want for your birthday?"

What was the saying? In for a penny, in for a pound?


	20. Chapter 21

It was Stephen Strange who broke up their conversation a little more than two hours later. May and Tony had only briefly talked about her upcoming birthday – since it was _supposed_ to be a surprise, he certainly didn't want her helping with the planning. It would be quite the surprise for _Peter_ , too, Tony thought, amused – and had moved on to other topics. Mainly Peter. She amused Stark with some anecdotes about the trials of raising a kid as a single mom – especially a smart kid who was always getting into things he had no business touching – and he let her into the private world of his own childhood and what it was like to _be_ one of those kids.

Both looked up when the door opened and the doctor let himself in without knocking.

"Good. You're both here. I need to talk to you."

"About Peter?" May asked, then felt stupid for asking it. It wasn't like he was going to ask about shoes or something. She was just worried. He'd been quiet the entire time she'd been holding him, but Palmer had told her that he should be waking up soon – and he hadn't.

"Yes." Strange didn't bat an eye. He did, however, hold up a syringe. "We've got the antigen finished."

"Great," Tony said, standing up and gesturing to the IV. "Give it to him."

"It's not that easy, Tony. There are some things that should be brought up, first. Which is why I'm glad to see you both."

"Side-effects?" May asked.

"Yes. Not permanent ones, but it's an _antigen_. His body will almost certainly reject it before it starts to do its work, and the symptoms will be uncomfortable for him."

"What kind of symptoms?" Stark asked – right before May had the chance to.

"Pain, fever, flu-like symptoms, crankiness. Maybe even bad dreams or hallucinations…"

"He has all of those, now," Stark pointed out.

"I know, but it will get worse before he gets better and I want you to be prepared for that."

"How much worse?"

"It's hard to tell," Strange admitted. "Nothing we can't handle."

"It'll make him better?" May asked.

"Yes."

He was so confident that she didn't doubt him for even a moment, but she looked over at Stark, who shrugged.

"This is your call, May," Tony told her. She was not only his only living relative, but she was also the one who knew him best and loved him most. Of course it was her call.

She nodded.

"Give it to him, then."

"I'll need you to move."

She did what he said, moving Peter's head to the pillows and pulling the blanket over him before she stood up and went over to stand beside Stark.

"How long until he's better?" Tony asked, watching as Strange injected the contents of the syringe into the proper spot on the IV bag.

"We should start seeing improvement in the symptoms within a few days. Only he'll be able to tell us when he's ready to be on his feet." He looked at May when he was finished. " _You_ won't be able to stay with him, though."

"What? Why?"

"It can be distressing for a relative, which can communicate to the patient."

"But I can check on him…"

"No. I'm going to suggest that you take Ned home and stay away until we let you know he's coming around."

"What?"

"I know it's upsetting," Strange told her, sincerely. "But it's better this way. It-"

"Better for _who_?" May snapped. Tony put a hand on her shoulder.

"Do you want to see him dying?" Strange asked her, bluntly. He didn't really have the best bedside manner, and belatedly he wondered if the news would have been better coming from Christine.

"Dying?"

"He's not going to die," Tony said, quickly, squeezing her shoulder to reassure her and scowling at Strange.

"No. He's not going to die," Stephen agreed. "But it might seem like it, and I don't want to put you through that. We'll take excellent care of him and you can come back when he's out of the proverbial woods."

"But…" She looked at Tony, who had no idea what to say to make her feel better about the situation.

"You're _sure_?" Stark asked Strange.

"Absolutely."

"I'll have Happy take you guys home," Tony told her. He certainly wasn't going to let her drive when she was so upset. "You can get your work done, and then be able to spend time with him when he's recuperating."

"You'll stay with him?"

"Yes."

"And you'll call me immediately if anything happens?"

"Of course. I'll keep you updated even when there's _nothing_ happening."

"Fine."

She didn't sound happy about it – and she wasn't – but she also wasn't going to argue with the doctor when he had been doing so much to cure her nephew.

Strange turned to Tony.

"We'll wait in the hall while she says her goodbyes."

"Sure." He turned to May. "I'll call Happy. He'll be ready to go as soon as you are."

She nodded and turned to the bed, while Strange and Stark left the room and closed the door behind them.

"Is that _really_ necessary?" Tony asked, softly, as soon as they were alone.

"Yes. All of the other reasons aside, if he gets delirious and starts talking about his abilities, she shouldn't be present." He gave Tony a frank look. "If I thought you'd listen to me, I'd tell _you_ to stay away, as well."

"Not a chance."

"I didn't think so. Besides, he might need you to hold him down if the dreams get bad."

"And you think they will…"

"They have so far."

Good point.

The door opened and May joined them in the hall.

"I'm ready."

"I'll walk with you," Tony said. He looked at the door, and then at Strange, hesitating.

"I'll watch him until you get back," the doctor offered. "Tell Ned thank you for me."

"If you need me-"

"I'll bring you to me," Strange told him.

He walked back into Peter's room, and May frowned as she and Stark turned toward the corridor.

"That's an odd way of saying it."

Tony shrugged. Stephen Strange's abilities weren't something May was ready for just then, and they were better off not discussing it.

"He's an odd guy."


	21. Chapter 22

"You'll call me?"

Tony nodded, opening the door for her.

"Day or night. I promise."

May wasn't happy about leaving and it showed quite clearly. _Ned_ wasn't happy either, especially since he didn't have a chance to see Peter before leaving, but the limousine Happy was standing next to was enough of a distraction to take his mind off his concern for the moment. Stark knew that May didn't have that luxury and he was doing everything he could to make her forced departure easier for her.

She got into the car, and Tony shut the door, then leaned in the window.

"You'll be back before you know it."

Happy started the car and Tony watched as they pulled out, Ned already opening all the compartments in the back of the car, checking out what was in them. Touching everything.

OOOOOOOOOOOO

Strange was seated in what Stark was beginning to think of as _his_ chair, his feet propped up on the edge of Peter's bed with an open book in his hands. The book looked like it was at least a couple hundred years old, with archaic script on the outside and God only knew what kind of writing inside..

"Did they leave?" Strange asked without looking up.

"Yeah."

"Good."

"Is there anything he needs?"

"No. Just sleep." Now Strange did look up. "When is the last time _you_ slept?"

"When I let Peter almost kill himself."

"Then I'll stay with him a while, and you go get some sleep."

"I'm fine."

Strange shut the book with a snap and it vanished.

"You're not _fine_ , Tony. Not even close. You need some sleep, or you're going to be in the next room flat on your back as well."

"I don't need to _sleep_. I need to be here for him."

"You _are_ here for him," Stephen told him. "But the next few days are going to be rough ones, and you're going to need to be healthy. Trust me on this one. Get the sleep now, because you'll need the reserves later."

"I don't-"

"Go to bed or I swear I'll spike your orange juice and knock you out for three days."

Stark scowled, unwilling to back down from what was obviously a challenge. Common sense told him that Strange was right, though. _And_ that Strange was also willing to do exactly what he threatened to do.

"Fine." He looked over at Peter, who hadn't moved. "I'll go get someone to watch him."

"I can watch him," Strange told him.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm a master of the mystic arts, Tony," Stephen reminded him with a slight smile. "I can handle one sick fifteen year old. No matter how fast he is."

Good point.

"I'll be back."

"Not for at least four hours."

"Fine."

Tony turned on his heel and headed for the door. Strange watched him go, looked at Peter and then at the monitor, made a slight motion with his hand and the book was back.

OOOOOOOOOOO

'" _Go to bed or I swear I'll spike your orange juice and knock you out for three days…_ '"

Stark muttered the phrase over and over as he walked toward his office, irritation making him forget that he _was_ a little tired and could use a nap. He didn't _want_ to sleep. He didn't want to be _told_ to sleep. Not by someone he barely knew. So what if he was a brilliant brain surgeon. So what if he could make portals and move people – _and objects_ – with a wave of his hand. He didn't know everything. He probably didn't even-

"Who peed in _your_ pasta?"

Tony was brought up sharp. He hadn't noticed Natasha coming from the opposite corridor, but she had obviously seen him, and read his expression perfectly.

"Strange."

She smirked, amused. Of course it was Strange. She had met the man, and had done a little digging, just out of curiosity, and as far as she was concerned Stark and Strange were two of a kind. She figured the only thing keeping that powder keg from blowing was their mutual concern for Peter.

"Want me to kill him?"

Tony laughed, surprised by the sound but completely snapped out of his dark mood by the offer. Which she probably knew would happen. Agent Romanoff was _very_ skilled with people, he knew.

"No. We still need him. But thanks."

She nodded.

"How's Peter doing?"

"He's holding his own, but the next few days are going to tell."

"They got their antigen?"

"Apparently. Strange just administered it."

She didn't ask the obvious question, but Tony answered it anyway.

"I've been sent to bed."

Ah.

"Do you want me to go check on him?"

"No. He's in good hands right now. Later, though, we're going to want to have watches on him – in case we get a repeat of that nightmare."

"I'm in."

He'd expected that.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome. Good night."

He scowled again but she was already walking away, and he couldn't think of a good comeback anyway. Maybe he _did_ need a little sleep.


	22. Chapter 23

Something was beeping in his ear. Not _right_ in his ear, maybe, but close enough that it was a distraction, pulling him out of a foggy mist and closer to wakefulness. He tried to ignore it – he was _really_ tired – but it seemed to beeping at him in the same rhythm as his heart was beating and he couldn't ignore _that_. He finally sighed and opened his eyes.

He was staring up at a familiar white ceiling with receded lights, and when he counted the tiles there were the same amount as he remembered there should be. He turned his head, chagrined by just how weak he felt, and tried to find the source of the beeping. He found a small army of medical equipment, apparently attached to him, monitoring who knew what. One was beeping in time to his heart, though.

"Hey…"

He turned the other direction and saw Steve Rogers sitting in the chair next to his bed. The man smiled and got up from the chair and perched himself on the edge of the bed, leaning over to brush Peter's forehead. Peter saw a bruise on his cheek and a Band-Aid on his forehead.

"Steve…"

It was more of a croak than anything, but Rogers must have understood him because he nodded.

"You remember my _name_. That's a good start." He got up and walked around the bed, went to the table and poured a small paper cup of water from a pitcher there before returning to hand it to Peter, whose hand shook as he tried to hold it to drink. Steve steadied him and Peter downed it in a couple of gulps. "What else do you remember?"

Peter closed his eyes, thinking back.

"We were playing UNO."

"Yes."

"I lost."

"That's an understatement. What else?"

He tried to think, but there were only flashes of scenes, all of them dark, or filled with pain and struggles, crying, shouting and unsettled rest. He opened his eyes and looked at Rogers again.

"I've been sick?"

"Yeah." Steve tapped the earbud communication device he was wearing, waiting only the briefest of moments and then. "Your boy's awake, Tony."

"What happened?" Peter asked.

"They gave you the antigen five days ago. Your fever finally broke yesterday."

"I don't remember…"

There were more flashes of memory, but it was like he was sitting still and they were passing him on a bullet train, he couldn't focus on anything in particular.

"Don't worry," Steve told him, patting his leg. "You had us a bit concerned for a while there, though."

"Oh."

"You broke Natasha's nose."

"What?"

He nodded, but ghosted a smile to reassure him.

"She's fine."

"I didn't mean-"

He was interrupted when the door opened, and Tony Stark came in, out of breath as if he'd been running. He walked to the end of the bed, his eyes only on Peter, who was watching him, suddenly concerned. Stark looked as tired as Peter felt. There were dark circles under his eyes, a nasty bruise on his cheek and worry lines that hadn't been there before as he could recall. Steve switched his gaze between the two of them and stood up.

"I'll go tell Strange he's awake."

"Thanks."

He patted Tony's shoulder as he walked by, and the man went over to sit in the spot Rogers had vacated.

"How do you feel?"

"Tired."

"Headache?"

"Not too much."

Tony reached over and put his palm on Peter's forehead, as if he couldn't believe what the monitor was telling him, and then with a stifled sigh of relief pulled the boy into his arms, holding him close. He couldn't help himself, and didn't bother trying. Five days of watching Peter fight off the poison in his system, the nightmares and hallucinations he'd suffered and the battles Stark and the others had endured to keep him in his bed and not hurt himself had taken their toll and broken down the last of the barriers he had between them.

"Don't you _ever_ scare me like that again," he murmured in the boy's ear.

Peter was too weak to do much more than hold on to Stark, his chin on his shoulder, but he squeezed him as hard as he could, a feeble attempt to apologize for the worry he had caused.

"I'm sorry."

"And don't even _think_ about eating nutmeg," Tony told him.

Confused by that mandate he could only nod, weakly.

"Okay."

"I _mean_ it."

"Okay."

Stark held him for another long minute, reassuring himself that he really was going to be alright, then eased him back to the pillows, pulling his blanket up and tucking them around him. A knock at the door was their warning when Doctor Strange entered.

"I hear you finally decided to rejoin us," he said, moving to the monitors and rolling them to the side a little to give himself room to examine his patient. Peter saw that his right eye was swollen and bruised.

"Yeah."

"How do you feel?"

"Tired. Weak…"

"That only makes sense," Strange assured him. "You've been in bed a long time. How's your head? Any headaches?"

"Just a little."

"Scale of one to ten?"

"Two?"

"Good." He gave the boy a satisfied smile. "You're not ready to do anything other than eat and rest, but I'd say it's safe to say that you're over the worst of it."

"Thanks."

"You're welcome." Strange looked at Stark. "He still _looks_ terrible. I'd suggest you wait a day or two before bringing May back."

"Is she okay?" Peter asked.

"She's fine," Tony assured him. "I'll explain it later, but she couldn't be here when you were sick. I'll let her know you're awake – she's been worried."

"I'll call her," Strange told him. "That way she doesn't argue about coming to visit." He looked at Peter, who had no idea just how drawn out and exhausted he looked. The sickness had definitely taken a toll. "You go back to sleep. I think we'll try to get you on your feet in the morning."

Tony frowned.

"Are you sure?"

"He's not going to run a marathon, I'll just have him walking the halls. It'll be good for him to get up."

Peter agreed with him. He was looking at the ceiling far too much.

"Okay."

Strange looked at Tony.

"You're going to stay?"

"Yes."

"Call me immediately if anything changes."

"I will. Thanks."

"And try to get some sleep, as well."

Peter waited until Strange had left, and then turned back to Stark.

"Did I really break Natasha's nose?"

"Yeah. Don't worry about it, though. She's okay. We all are."

Which told him that he was probably responsible for the bruising on Stark and Strange both. And who knew what else he'd done.

"I didn't mean to…"

Stark shook his head, putting his hand on Peter's arm and shaking it slightly.

"It's okay. Really." He let go of him and leaned back in his chair, putting his feet up on the bed again. "Go to sleep."

Peter closed his eyes, too tired to say that he wasn't tired. Tony watched as he fell asleep, then he allowed his eyes to close, too.


	23. Chapter 24

_He was flying. Going faster than he'd ever managed before, the force of his acceleration taking his breath away. There must have been a reason for him to be moving so quickly but he didn't know what it was. He didn't know where he was going, either, and he didn't care. This time it was the joy of the journey that mattered. He ran out of web in his swing and shot a new one, effortlessly catching a cell tower, and then alternating with a flagpole, going to dizzying heights, and watching the city below get smaller and smaller._

" _Keep up, Peter!"_

 _He looked up and saw Ironman jet above him from out of nowhere, and then in front of him, turning to watch as he followed. This far up, there were no people to protect his identity from. Behind his mask Peter grinned, then shot a web at Stark, catching his hip._

" _Gotcha!"_

 _The Ironman suit shot into the sky, trailing Peter behind, going even faster. He hung on, whooping with joy at the experience and at the same time breathless with excitement. He'd never gone so fast and never once worried that he'd fall. Or at least, he knew if he did fall Stark would catch him. It was exhilarating._

"Peter!"

With a gasp, Peter opened his eyes, the flight ending in an instant, but the adrenaline still coursing through his system. Tony Stark sat up, instantly alert to anything that was out of the ordinary after the last several days – and Peter's monitors were screaming just then. He lunged from the chair to the bed, still half-asleep but ready to hold the boy down. Then he realized that Peter's eyes were open and he wasn't in distress.

"What's wrong?" Tony asked, looking at him and then around the room.

"I don't know," Peter said, struggling to sit upright. He was looking around, too. "Someone said my name."

"A nightmare?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"It wasn't scary."

Tony gave him a searching look, his expression concerned. He pressed his palm against Peter's forehead, expecting that his fever must have returned or something must have gone wrong, but the boy wasn't even sweating. He didn't look panicked, either. Tony and the others had seen plenty of examples of Peter in the thrall of a bad dream lately.

"Are you _okay_?"

Peter nodded.

"Yeah. Sorry…" He looked around again. "I… I guess it _must_ have been my dream…"

It had sounded so real, though. So different from the noises in the dream he'd been having. The adrenaline was fading and his heart was back to a regular rhythm and he took a deep breath. Tony was still watching him, though.

"I'm okay, Mr. Stark," Peter repeated, feeling the exhaustion return as the excitement and adrenaline of the dream wore off. "I'm sorry I woke you up."

Tony wasn't convinced.

"What was the dream about?"

"We were flying."

"You and I?"

"Yeah."

Tony frowned.

"In a plane?"

"No. I was swinging, first, and you were in your suit. Then I tagged you with a web and caught a ride." He smiled, remembering the feeling of going faster than any human could. "It was fun."

Tony decided it was better than the nightmares, but he still wanted to make sure it wasn't something more sinister. Like those senses Peter got before something happened.

"And then what?"

"Nothing. I heard someone say my name and woke up." He shrugged. "It was just a dream, I guess."

"But not a _nightmare_?"

"No."

"Did _I_ say your name?"

"No."

That much he was sure of.

"Was it a woman's voice?"

Peter frowned, thinking back.

"No. I think it was a man."

"Does your head hurt?"

"No."

"Dizzy?"

"No." Peter had a feeling he wasn't going to be able to convince him that he was alright. "Nothing's wrong. It was a _good_ dream." He smiled, remembering it, even as he leaned back into the pillows, too tired to hold his head up. "I think we were playing tag or something."

"Was I _winning_?"

"You have _rockets_ in your suit," Peter reminded him. "What do _you_ think?"

Stark smirked, finally relaxing a little. He didn't see any sign of distress, and none of the symptoms of the last couple of weeks. Good dreams were a far cry better than anything else the boy had had recently.

"I think you need to go back to sleep."

"Probably."

He looked around again, though, before he closed his eyes. Stark didn't miss the look, and he didn't go back to the chair. Instead, he took a pillow and propped himself up beside Peter, comfortable, but not so much that he'd fall back to sleep. Just in case. He could catch up on his sleep later, now that he'd had a nap. It wasn't the first time he'd gone without, after all.

This time, he _did_ reach into his pocket and pull out his cell phone. He shifted just enough so that he was against Peter's side – in case he started wiggling in his sleep and needed held down. And he certainly wasn't going to vanish again on Tony's watch.

Peter rolled a bit onto his side, reflexively moving his head so he wouldn't have to count ceiling tiles when he opened his eyes next. Stark automatically reached out the hand that wasn't holding the phone and rested it on the boy's shoulder to settle him, but Peter wasn't in the thrall of a bad dream or hallucination just then and didn't need comforted or reassured. He'd take the contact, though, to keep himself grounded, even though he didn't knowingly realize he needed it. His hand rested against Tony's side and he went back to sleep, hoping for another good dream.

Stark looked down at him, smiled slightly to find himself in such a position - both literally and figuratively - and then turned his attention back to his phone. Sky tag sounded like a good time. And maybe a training opportunity. He'd have to think about it.


	24. Chapter 25

"Are you _sure_ this is a good idea?"

"He's fine."

"I'm fine."

Tony Stark scowled, watching Strange give Peter a helping hand as the boy got out of the bed.

"He's not fine."

Despite his assurances, Strange had a good hold of Peter's elbow, taking as much of his weight as he could when he stood up, and he didn't miss the way he was shaking by the time he was upright. But he was upright.

Peter turned to Stark, smiling in triumph, and almost fell when he lost his balance, causing both men to grab him. Stark tried to pull him back to the bed, but Strange's grip kept him on his feet, which was where the doctor wanted him.

"I'm okay," Peter told them, quickly.

"Easy," Strange told him, watching him intently. "Take a step."

Peter did, leaning heavily on the doctor, and well aware that Tony was watching for any sign of weakness that would get him banished back to the bed immediately.

After sleeping most of the day and all through the night, Peter was feeling a little more like himself, and was definitely ready to try walking around for a while. Stark had his reservations and didn't hesitate to voice them. Doctor Strange had brought a breakfast tray, watched Peter eat and had questioned him thoroughly about how he was feeling, and how he'd slept. He seemed satisfied with the answers Peter gave him, and had suggested a trial walk – to the door and back. Peter had agreed immediately.

He took another step and was shocked just how shaky he was. His left knee buckled, and Tony had his hand under his arm in an instant.

"Okay, that's enough. Back to bed."

"No," Peter told him. "I'm okay. Honest."

"He has to get his legs back under him, Tony," Strange said, understanding the other man's concerns but not willing to give in to them. "He's not going to hurt himself."

"Maybe he should have another day in bed, first," Stark said, still holding Peter's arm. "He can get his legs under him tomorrow."

"He's alright."

"He almost died."

His haunted expression made it clear just how he felt about that, and Peter felt like a heel for wanting to have his own way when he knew Stark just wanted what was best for him.

"He didn't die, though," Strange reminded him, before Peter could capitulate and suggest that maybe he could wait until tomorrow to try again. The doctor looked just as tired as Tony did; neither man had had a lot of sleep and had very little chance to catch up on it. Strange because he was constantly checking on Peter's progress and Stark because he stayed at the boy's side and woke up every time he so much as twitched in his sleep. "I know what I'm doing. Now let him go."

The black eye he was sporting made him look fairly sinister, Peter thought privately, but it was the sincerity in them that finally made Tony release his grip on Peter.

"Fine."

He didn't have to be graceful about it.

Stephen looked at Peter, winking at him with the eye that Stark couldn't see.

"Keep trying?"

"Yeah."

The next few steps were just as unsteady, but with Strange right at hand, and Tony hovering close, he did make it to the door, and then he made it back to the side of the bed. Strange checked his pulse and his eyes, looking for any indication that he was pushing his patient faster than he should.

"How do you feel?"

"Tired," Peter admitted.

"You probably will for the next few day. It's normal. Try again?"

"Yeah. Down the hall?"

Tony clamped down on his immediate objection, but was almost relieved when Strange shook his head.

"Sit down for a while, first. Then we can give it a go."

Peter did as he was told, glad to be off his feet for the moment, but anxious to get some stamina back. Stark sat down next to him, and both watched as Strange made annotation in the chart they were still using for Peter's progress.

"I suppose we could get him a walker," the doctor said, looking up from what he was writing. "Then we wouldn't have to worry about him taking a fall."

Peter frowned.

"A walker? That's for old people. Like _forty_ , at least."

Both men scowled at that.

"Too late to go find some nutmeg?" Stark asked Strange.

"Probably."

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

An hour after that Peter was walking down the hall. Slowly, almost painfully, with one hand against the whitewashed wall to support himself and Stephen Strange on the other side, not holding him up but right at hand to offer a steadying grip when he faltered. Which he had. More than once. But he was doing it.

Stark was gone. Not because he wanted to be, but because Pepper had come to the room and asked him to help her with something Stark Industry related. She had been willing to let him alone while he was needed to help with Peter's recovery – and to keep him in bed when he'd been so sick, but now that he was getting better, she was ready to claim him for a few hours. Whether he liked it or not. Peter wondered if Strange had somehow asked her to come remove Tony from the room, since as soon as he was gone, he'd suggested they try a walk down the hall.

"You're doing great," Strange told him when they'd gone about thirty steps. Peter knew, because he'd been counting.

"It feels like a mile."

"I know. Do you need to stop?"

He nodded, leaning against the wall and closing his eyes. The wall was more support for him than the doctor, really, now that they weren't moving. He could cling to a wall forever, after all.

"How long until I'm better?"

"Several weeks, most likely."

Peter opened his eyes, surprised and a bit dismayed.

"Seriously?"

"Yes. If not longer."

"But that's forever."

"You want to take this slow," Strange told him, seriously. "I know Tony is advocating for you to still be in bed – and he might be right – but if you're not careful at this stage of your recovery, you could make yourself sick again and then you _will_ be stuck in bed again."

"Really?"

"Why do you think I'm still here?"

Peter didn't have a clue. He had to admit that he hadn't even considered it. He knew Strange probably had a million other things he could be doing besides hanging out at his bedside or walking him down a hallway.

"I don't know…"

"To keep you from relapsing."

"Oh."

"Don't worry, Peter. It might feel like forever, but it won't be too long. Time has a way of surprising you, that way."


	25. Chapter 26

_Author's Note: So I have a wonky schedule for work in case someone has noticed. Sometimes I get plenty of time to write, sometimes I have very little. Which is one of the reasons I break my stories into chapters like I do. Just explaining my randomness when it comes to posting. Thanks for reading_.

OOOOOOOOOOO

"Peter…?"

The voice alone might not have woken him, but someone was gently shaking his shoulder, which he couldn't ignore. He opened his eyes, wondering how he'd managed to get back into his bed. The last thing he remembered had been talking to Doctor Strange in the hallway. Now _he_ was in bed, and Strange was sitting on the edge of the bed, waking him up with a hand on the shoulder. The book he had in the other hand told Peter that maybe he'd been asleep for a while, but the doctor's expression didn't look worried. Although Peter had to admit that he didn't know him well enough to read him.

"What happened?" he asked, sitting up.

"You fell asleep. Or more aptly, you _passed out_."

"Really?"

"In the middle of a conversation," Strange confirmed. "Standing up. Sticking to the wall."

For someone who had pretty much seen all there was to see – at least he _thought_ he had – it had been interesting to say the least when Peter had suddenly passed out on him while they'd been talking. He'd grabbed for the boy the moment his eyes had closed, expecting to catch him mid fall. But the hand that he had touching the wall had maintained that connection and even though Peter had slumped, he hadn't fallen. He'd just stayed where he was. That single contact holding firm.

"Really?"

The confusion made Strange smile. It wasn't the same kind of fever induced confusion that they'd been dealing with. This was just a genuine _what the hell happened_ garden variety muddle. The kind someone who'd had too much to drink might exhibit.

"Yes."

He'd wondered for a moment if the boy was simply stuck there to the wall until he woke up - which would have been awkward. But when he'd taken the hand and pulled it away from the wall, Peter had slumped against him. Then it had been a simple matter of picking him up and carrying him back to his bed. And looking at his fingertips and hand again once he'd had him covered up. They didn't look any different than his own, really. It was definitely interesting. To say the least.

"I'd prefer you didn't tell Tony."

"He _knows_ I can stick to walls."

"That you passed out."

"Oh. Yeah. No. No. I'm not going to tell him."

It would make him worry. Or make him want to keep Peter in bed. He didn't want to worry Mr. Stark any more than he already had.

"It's an amazing talent," Strange conceded.

"Just a crazy accident. I didn't have anything to do with it."

"But what you _do_ with it does say a lot about you."

He dismissed the book with a thought, and it was replaced with a tablet. Peter saw a YouTube video of Spiderman swinging in and pulling a child away from an oncoming car that had just lost control, saving her at the last minute playing on it. But he wasn't interested in the video – he'd seen it before. What he couldn't believe was that the tablet had suddenly appeared out of nowhere, and the book had vanished.

"How did you do that?"

"How did you know the girl was in danger?" Strange asked him, ignoring the question for the moment.

Peter shrugged, leaning over the edge of the bed by where the doctor was seated to see if the book had somehow been dropped to the floor and he hadn't noticed. It wasn't there. And that wouldn't have explained where the tablet had come from. Strange took his shoulder and pulled him back. The last thing he wanted was for blood to rush to his head and make him pass out again.

"Peter? How did you know she was going to need to be saved?"

"I get these feelings."

"Like ESP? A vision?"

"No. Not a vision. Just a feeling." He looked a little distracted. "It's hard to explain, really. Ned calls it my spider-sense, but I don't know what it is. I just know something is going to happen, and where I need to be."

"And you go there and see the problem and solve it."

"If I can. I can't, always. I'm not that good at it. Not really."

Which made Stephen wonder what kind of situation he'd failed to resolve. He didn't ask, though. The boy was young. He couldn't expect to save the world right out of the gate. Or rather, he probably _did_ expect that, but would have to learn that it doesn't happen that way.

"I imagine that you'll get better in time, and with some practice."

"I hope so. I think so."

"It's a remarkable ability. You could probably rob an armored car and be set for life – you and your aunt."

He looked at Strange, surprised by the suggestion. Or maybe that he had _made_ the suggestion. Stephen didn't have to read minds to know that Peter almost certainly _knew_ that he could make a fortune with his abilities. The fact that he hadn't done any such thing in the time that he'd been using his new abilities told the doctor everything he needed to know about the boy and his character.

"I couldn't do that."

Strange smiled, patted his shoulder and stood up, banishing the tablet.

"No. You wouldn't. Ready to try another walk?"

"How did you do that?" Peter asked, looking at Strange and then around the room. He knew the tablet wasn't there, though. He would have heard it land if Strange had tossed it somewhere.

"It's magic."

"There's no such thing."

"Of course there is."

Rather than have another discussion about wormholes like the ones he'd had with Ned, Strange sat down beside Peter and produced the book once more and handed it to him.

Peter took it, feeling it. It was old, maybe a little dusty. But it was definitely a book. Definitely real. Strange took it back, and it vanished before it completely left the boy's hand.

"How else would you explain it?"

"Some kind of transporter technology."

"Nope. Did you feel anything?"

He shook his head.

"No."

"Try again, then."

The book returned. The _same_ book, Peter knew when Strange handed it to him. It was still in his hand this time when it vanished. Peter had been watching it, and nothing had made him tingle like he knew it would.

"That's awesome. What else can you do? How do you do it?"

"I told you. _Magic_."

"But-"

"Come on." Strange put his hand under Peter's arm and hauled him to his feet, supporting him until he was able to stand on his own shaky legs. "You make it down the hall and back without passing out on me this time, and I'll try to explain what I can do over lunch."


	26. Chapter 27

They didn't talk about Strange or his abilities as Peter made his way slowly down the corridor. For one thing, the boy needed to focus on putting one step in front of the other without falling. For another, descriptions would lead to a request for a demonstration, and that would cause yet another distraction. Instead, the doctor asked Peter about himself. Questions more designed to distract him from being miserable, but also ones that would let Strange know more about him. He didn't have many opportunities to spend time with teenagers – mostly on _purpose_ – but Peter was one that he knew would be something special, and Strange preferred keeping tabs on those that might someday change the world. For better or for worse.

"So you don't play sports?"

"No." Peter's hand was against the wall once more, leaning heavily on it. "I'm not very good at them, for the most part."

"Not very good at _cards_ , either, from what I hear."

That elicited a slight smile.

"No."

"So, what _are_ you good at? There has to be something."

"I'm pretty smart," he admitted. "I like tech. I like solving problems."

Which explained why Tony Stark connected with the kid.

"How are _you_ not good at sports?" Strange asked, frowning. "With your abilities, you should be-"

"I _wasn't_ good at sports," Peter corrected. "I guess I would be, now. I haven't really tried."

"Ah."

Before Strange could comment on that, Steve Rogers came around the corner ahead of them and smiled when he saw the two of them.

"I heard you were on your feet – mostly," he said, walking over to them. The Band-Aid was now a butterfly bandage, revealing a stitched cut on his forehead to go with the bruises on his cheek. "How do you feel?"

"Good. Sort of. It's better than staring at the ceiling."

"I bet." He looked at Strange.

"How's he doing?"

"Once we get some weight back on him and a little stamina, he'll be good as new."

Rogers nodded, putting a hand on Peter's shoulder.

"It's good to see you up."

"Thanks."

"I'll come by later and check on you?"

"Yeah."

Still bemused by the whole idea of hanging out with _Captain America_ , Peter could only watch as he walked away, and Strange had to nudge him to get his attention back on what they were doing.

"A lot of interesting people around here," he stated as they resumed their slow walk.

"Yeah." He hesitated, his gaze going to Strange's black eye. "Did I do that?"

"Oh yes." The doctor's expression was amused more than anything, and he smiled to cushion the words, even as his hand brushed against the swollen cheek around his eye. "But it was my own fault. I got cocky, and assumed that I could handle anything you could throw at me. Even though Tony _did_ warn me."

"I'm sorry."

"You _should_ be. I'm a good looking guy, you know? It's going to be days before I can face the public."

Of course, that wasn't really a concern, but Peter heard the affability in his tone, and the guilty pang was smothered before it could kindle something more serious.

"Mr. Stark has a bruise…"

"More than one I assure you," Strange corrected, taking Peter's arm and silently directing him to walk. " _He_ got cocky, too."

"I didn't mean to hurt anyone."

"We all know that. You were having some pretty bad dreams. I expected it. It was one of the reasons I didn't want your Aunt May here."

"So I wouldn't hurt her?"

"Right. Tony's a strong guy, and you flung him across the room like he weighed nothing. More than once, I might add. Steve crashed into the table so hard he broke it, and Banner almost went through the wall. It left a dent you can still see if you know where to look."

"I didn't-"

"You didn't know what you were doing," Strange told him. "Or who you were doing it to. We understand. May would have understood, too, of course. But you still might have hurt her. _Seriously_ hurt her. It was better my way. Even if no one liked it."

"Including her?"

He smiled.

"She wasn't very happy with me. Especially since we couldn't tell her _why_ you were so dangerous." He watched Peter take a couple more steps, then decided to bring up his own point of interest. "Do you really think you should keep your secret from her? She seems like someone who could handle it – maybe even help you."

Peter stopped, resting against the wall, and shook his head, looking down.

"She'd worry."

"That's her job."

"Yeah. But it _shouldn't_ be, you know?" He sighed. "I don't really remember much about my parents. Some scenes – maybe a birthday party, or some kind of trip. When I think back, and try to remember them, all I see is _May_. She's always been looking out for me, and she got stuck with me by default. When they died, she was the only one left to take me."

"I don't imagine she sees it that way."

"No. I _know_ she doesn't. But I'm bigger, now. It's my turn to look out for her. I can't do that if she's always worrying about me being safe. And if she knew who I was, she'd… I don't even _know_ what she'd do. But I know that she'd worry. And that wouldn't be right." He shook his head. "That probably doesn't make sense, but-"

"I understand."

"I just want her to be happy. Someday I might be in a position to let her know, but not now. Not when I'm so young that she still sees me as the six year old who couldn't figure out how to ride a bike, or the nine year old she had to fish out of the lake when I fell off the pier."

It was clear to Strange that he'd thought things through – and had sincere and earnest motives for not letting May in on his secret.

"She's probably always going to look at you that way, you know?"

"Yeah, but if I get a few more years in me, maybe the mature things will outweigh the dumb ones. Then I can tell her."

"What does she think you're doing now?" Strange asked. "She knows who Tony is, obviously."

"She thinks it's an internship with Stark Industries. Which isn't really a lie." He pushed off from the wall to continue their walk. They were almost to the point that they were going to turn around and head back, and Peter was flagging and he knew it.

Strange noticed, too. Despite the fact that he was paying attention to their conversation, he was watching Peter closely, and he was staggering more than walking, really. He walked a little closer, ready to lend support when it was needed.

"Well, I'll probably let her back tomorrow. You seem to be over the worst of it."

"And Ned?"

"Sure."

They walked in silence for a moment.

"You _really_ can't ride a bicycle?"

"I figured it out."

Eventually.


	27. Chapter 28

Lunch was a big meal delivered to Peter with a display by Strange, who never left the room. He simply asked Peter if he had any requests for lunch, winked and cleared all the various items from the rolling table before producing two plates loaded with spaghetti and meatballs, a loaf of piping hot garlic bread and tea for himself and a cola for his amazed companion. As he'd known it would, this led to a somewhat lengthy discussion of his own abilities and he shared with Peter some of his history. Not too much, but enough that Peter knew that yes, he actually _was_ a doctor, and no, he _wasn't_ an Avenger and really didn't have any interest in becoming one.

He showed Peter a portal but they didn't actually go through it, since the boy was tired of walking just then and neither of them had any place that they really _wanted_ to go. Peter had watched, fascinated, as Strange proved to him in a couple of hours that there really was such a thing as magic, but it wasn't easy to learn and it certainly didn't require waving a wand and mumbling nonsense words.

Finally, though, when the plates were empty, the bread was gone and they were debating what – if anything – they wanted for desert, the long morning got the best of him and his need for sleep overcame him with a swiftness that surprised him, but not his doctor. That had been the whole point of filling him with a big meal after walking him up and down the hallway.

He cleared the table with an unnecessary gesture – he could be a showman when he _wanted_ to be, after all – and got up, pushing the table away.

"You need a nap."

"Yeah."

He was too tired to deny it, although as a typical teenager, he wasn't fond of the word nap. But that was what he was going to do. Strange decided after stretching a little that _he_ needed a nap as well. He didn't necessarily need a solid eight hours a day, but it was nice when he could get it, and he hadn't been getting anywhere near that much. Besides, the bed in the rooms Stark had given him was extremely comfortable. He thought he might go check on a few things first, though.

"Are you going to be alright?"

Peter nodded.

"I'm good."

Rather than be flashy and just vanish – which Peter was kind of _hoping_ he'd do – Strange left the room the usual mundane way. By opening the door and walking through it. When it closed behind him, Peter shifted in the bed until he was comfortable, looked around the room to see if he could find the spot on the wall Banner had hit and dozed off before he located it.

OOOOOOOOOOO

"How's he doing?" Christine asked when Strange walked into the social lounge area of the facility. She wasn't the only one who looked up when he'd arrived, and wasn't the only one interested in the answer.

Steve and Natasha had been sitting with Bruce, watching a video Clint had filmed of a recent training run he'd made with a few of the newer recruits. They could have watched it elsewhere but the lounge was comfortable, the TV screens were bigger, and there were all kinds of drinks available at all times of the day. The three of them looked up as well, and they were joined by Nick Fury who walked over to hear the reply.

Stephen hid his amused smile when he looked at the foursome. Aside from the cut and bruises on Steve's face, Banner and Natasha both looked like they'd been in a prize fight, and lost. Natasha looked the worst, mainly because her broken nose had left both eyes blackened, and she sported a bruise on her cheek that matched the one Steve had.

Bruce Banner had a bandage on his hand from cutting himself when he'd been thrown into the wall, and a neat line of stitches in his lower lip, which would probably leave an interesting scar once it healed. There were various bruises along his cheek and forehead, proving that he'd tried to help restrain Peter, but had failed as badly as the rest of them. Including Nick Fury, who hadn't believed that any fifteen year old boy could wreak such havoc on his team and had insisted that he could watch him sleep while the others were getting patched up from the most recent melee.

He'd been proven wrong almost immediately, and Strange had taken an elbow to the face, again, holding Peter down once he'd tossed Fury to the side like a ragdoll. The former S.H.I.E.L.D director was sporting a shockingly white bandage on his cheek that protected his own neat set of stitches, and a cast on his right forearm keeping a broken wrist in place while it healed. A lesson learned the hard way.

"He's doing alright," Strange told the group, accepting a glass from Christine. A drink wasn't a bad idea. "I had him on his feet for a short walk earlier."

Steve knew that already, and had passed it on to the others.

"Who's watching him, now?" Fury asked, well aware that Stark was asleep.

"No one."

"Is that _wise_?"

Strange shrugged.

"I think it's safe to say he's over the worst of the nightmares and hallucinations. It's just a matter of getting his strength back, now. He probably doesn't need anyone with him."

Fury looked over at Rogers, who echoed Strange's shrug. He wasn't a doctor. If Strange thought it was safe, Steve would go along with him.

"I could go keep him company," Natasha offered.

"Thank you, Ms. Romanoff. I'd appreciate that."

Fury had underestimated the kid, once. That was all it took for his lesson to be learned.

OOOOOOOOOOO

Tony Stark tended to go from asleep to awake rather quickly. It was part of the way his mind was wired, he knew. He could shut it off when he was asleep – to a point – but from the minute he was awake enough to actually think about things, he was usually thinking about things. Usually _Pepper_ things, or _Ironman_ things, or sometimes _Stark Industry_ things. Lately the list had lengthened to include _Peter Parker_ things, as opposed to _Spiderman_ things. He sat up in his bed, rubbing his eyes, tiredly, and wincing as he brushed his hand against the bruise on his cheek.

Which made his thoughts go to Peter. He immediately decided that he should check on him, a little annoyed with himself for allowing the time to sleep in the first place. Not that he'd really had a lot of choice. Pepper had borrowed him long enough to ask him a couple of questions that he knew she already had the responses for, and then she'd plied him with a good breakfast and a little fooling around. Knowing that Peter was in good hands, he'd been easily distracted – as he normally was by her – but he'd fallen asleep somewhere during the massage. He decided that had probably been her intentions all along, but it was a much better way to go than a sedative, so he wasn't annoyed with her. Just himself.

A quick look at his watch as he got out of bed told him it was well into the afternoon. Pepper wasn't there, but he knew that she hadn't been gone long since a fresh pot of coffee was on the counter with a tray of edibles that he downed before taking a quick shower. Refreshed more than he'd admit, he went to check on Peter and see what he might have missed while he'd been asleep.


	28. Chapter 29

" _Well?"_

" _He's sick. Really sick. He should be in a hospital."_

" _What would they do there that a doctor couldn't do here?"_

" _I'm not sure what you want_ me _to do."_

" _I want you to_ heal _him."_

" _You don't know what's wrong with him."_

" _Right. That's where you come in." A hand against his cheek. "We have to find out what has him so sick."_

" _I don't know what you've been told about me, Mr. Stark, bu-"_

" _You'd be surprised what I've heard about you. Right now, though, I need a doctor. I've heard you're the best."_

 _I'm not really that kind of doctor. You need a diagnostician. I'm not-"_

" _Mr. Strange-"_

"Doctor _Strange."_

" _Exactly. You're a doctor. He's sick. You took an oath, didn't you?"_

" _I'm a_ brain surgeon _."_

" _And I've been told that this is a neurological problem. That means the brain, right?"_

 _There was an exasperated sigh._

" _Yes."_

" _He's had seizures and hallucinations and God only knows what else. There has to be a reason. I'm told you're the man I need to find that reason."_

" _Anyone could-"_

" _Please?"_

 _A long silence._

" _I'll need help."_

" _Whatever you need."_

" _A place to work."_

" _You can take your pick."_

 _Another hand, this one on his forehead._

" _No promises."_

" _I understand."_

"Peter!"

He opened his eyes with a sharp gasp, and found himself staring up at the ceiling. He also felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Easy."

Peter looked over and saw Natasha Romanoff leaning over the bed, putting a fair amount of force against the grip on his shoulder. Her eyes were concerned, but he only noticed that she was badly bruised around her nose.

"Natasha…"

She nodded, leaning back and releasing her hold now that she knew he was awake and lucid.

"Bad dream?"

He shook his head, sitting up so he could look around. He saw an unfinished game of solitaire on the table near where she was now sitting on the bed.

"I thought someone called my name."

She frowned.

"I'm the only one here."

The voice had been masculine, he was sure, but she right. There wasn't anyone else in the room.

"Weird."

"Maybe you imagined it."

"Yeah. Maybe."

She smiled at the confusion in his expression, but definitely preferred it over the fear or panic they'd all seen before.

"How do you feel?"

"Okay."

"I heard you were out of bed for a while earlier."

"Yeah." He hesitated, and then gestured at her face. "I'm really sorry I hurt you."

Natasha smiled and shrugged.

"You just got in a lucky shot," she told him. "It's as much my fault as yours."

"I didn't mean to-"

She stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

"Relax, Peter," she said. "You know what happens when you break a _man's_ nose?"

"What?"

"He gets ugly. _Lopsided_." She pointed to her own face. "Know what happens when you break a _woman's_ nose?"

"What?"

"Free nose job. Better than ever. Now stop worrying about it. Okay?"

He nodded.

"How long have I been asleep?"

"I've been here about two hours."

"Watching me sleep? Boring."

Her smile was amused.

"It's better than some things I've done. Much more relaxing. Do you need anything?"

He shook his head, rubbing his face, trying to wake up a little.

"No. I don't think so."

"Are you hungry?"

"No."

"Want to play cards?"

He snorted.

"You're probably better off playing solitaire. I can watch."

"There has to be _some_ card game you're not terrible at. It's just a matter of finding it. Besides, it'll be a good distraction from being stuck in bed."

And would give him a chance to wake up.

Peter shrugged. He was pretty sure she had a million others things she could be doing, but he didn't want to count ceiling tiles.

"Okay."

Natasha reached for the table and rolled it closer.

OOOOOOOOOOOO

Tony wasn't surprised to see Natasha in Peter's room when he walked in the door. He'd stopped by the lounge to check on the general mood of the place and Banner had mentioned Fury had asked her to keep an eye on the boy – just in case there was another nightmare. Stark agreed with Fury, but he was also willing to concede that he might just be overreacting. It was probably a little early for dinner, so he grabbed some snacks in the lounge to take along, and went to check on him and to spell Romanoff in case she needed a break.

He _was_ a little surprised that he found them playing cards. They both looked up at his entrance, and Stark decided after a quick glance that Peter looked much better than he had. He still looked pale and tired, but his eyes were alert and he liked the smile the boy gave him when he walked over.

"I thought I warned you away from cards," he said, dumping the snacks on the side of the bed since there wasn't room on the table for them. The two of them were playing WAR, and Natasha had most of the deck on her side.

"Natasha thought we could find a game I'm good at."

"And?"

She smirked.

"We played Go Fish and Rummy – I even taught him Poopnboots – and he managed to get thrashed. So we switched to WAR, which he should have-"

" _Poopinboots_?" Tony echoed. "Do I even _want_ to know?"

"Peter can teach you. Although I wouldn't advise it." Her grin was amused, and it made Peter and Tony both smile. "He's _amazing_ at losing at cards. I'd never believe it if I weren't seeing it firsthand."

"It's just a talent I have," the boy said, shrugging. He didn't look too annoyed at the teasing, and Tony decided he wasn't. Of course, it probably helped that Romanoff was a beautiful woman – despite, or maybe even because of – the spectacular bruising around her eyes just then, and that always made losing a little easier.

"I even went easy on him."

"Does he owe you any money?"

"I'm too smart for that," Peter told him. "We played for future favors."

She smirked again, and gathered up the cards.

"If I ever need a kidney, I'm set."

Tony sat down on the other side of the bed and handed Peter a bag of chips before opening one for himself.

"Can I play?"


	29. Chapter 30

"Seriously, are you even _trying_ to win?"

"Yes."

"You understand the concept, right? Get the most points, or the high score and –"

"I understand the concept, Mr. Stark."

Natasha laughed, and tossed her cards onto the stack.

"Ignore him, Peter. He just doesn't understand the struggles of the little guys."

Tony arched an eyebrow at her and held up the score sheet.

"Do I need to point out that you're winning?"

"You don't _need_ to, but if you want to you can."

Stark rolled his eyes, and then turned his attention back to his new favorite subject.

"We should enter you in some kind of contest. _Worst card player_ , or something. You might even have a monument – or a school named after you."

Peter was beyond being embarrassed, and an afternoon of doing nothing more tiring than playing cards had left him in a good mood and feeling better than he had in weeks.

"I warned you I was bad at this." He looked at Romanoff. "Didn't I warn him? You heard me warn him."

"He _did_ warn you," she agreed, looking at her watch. "It's getting late. I'm going to call it a day and find some dinner."

It was later than dinner time, but Peter had had a big lunch, plus the snacks that Stark had brought when he'd joined their card game, so there hadn't been any growling stomachs to keep track of time for them.

"Thanks for keeping me company."

She flashed him a smile.

"It was fun. We'll do it again."

"Okay."

Romanoff nodded a good-bye to Stark and left them, both of them watching her leave.

"She's nice," Peter said, more to himself than to Tony.

"Yes. She is." Stark gathered up the playing cards and put them in their box and pushed the table to the side. "And she likes you. I can tell."

"What does she do?"

"What do you mean?"

"You know, does she have a superpower? Can she… I don't know, shoot laser beams from her eyes or something?"

Stark smiled, and shook his head.

"No. But she does have an amazing skillset – which I will let _her_ tell you about sometime. Just remember to never piss her off."

"Okay."

"Now, before I forget, your aunt thinks you are planning on throwing her a surprise birthday party."

"What?"

"She thinks you're going to throw her a surprise birthday party."

Peter frowned.

"What? Why would she think that?"

"Because I told her that you are."

"You told her I was going to throw her a birthday party?"

"Yes. Keep up."

"A _surprise_ party?"

"Yes."

"If it's supposed to be a surprise, why would you tell her?"

"Just don't tell her about the party, okay?"

"You already told her about it, though, right?"

"Yes. But it's a surprise. So don't mention it to her."

Peter stared at him, wondering if he was having some kind of weird set back or something.

"What?"

Tony rolled his eyes.

"Just don't mention any surprise parties to her – but don't be surprised if she knows about it, okay?"

"Um… okay?"

"And tell Ned."

"Tell Ned what?"

"About the party."

"The surprise party?"

"Just tell Ned so he can be in on the secret."

"You want me to tell Ned about the party for May, but not May? Even though she already knows and I'm not supposed to mention it?"

"Don't mention it to _May_. You have to tell Ned."

"Why?"

"Because he's the decoy."

"I'm confused."

"I can tell. Just do what I tell you."

"Okay."

Tony was almost grateful for the knock on the door, and Strange entered the room.

"Good, you're awake."

"He's been awake," Tony told him.

The doctor picked up the chart and walked over to the bed, flipping through it before looking at Peter.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"You look a little dazed."

"Yeah. No, I'm okay."

"Good. How is your head?"

"Okay."

"Tired?"

"No. Not really."

"Good. I'm about to add to your rehab therapy."

"How?" Stark asked.

"I found the swimming pool."

Peter frowned.

"There's a pool here?"

"Apparently."

"Of course there is," Tony said. "A hot tub, too. Should he be swimming, though? It seems like more of a workout than he's ready for."

"I can't swim," Peter told them, blanching a little.

Strange already knew that from his discussion with the boy earlier.

"Not swimming," he corrected. "Just water walking. In the shallow end."

"But-"

"Water has good resistance, so you'll get your stamina and strength back quicker, and it'll support your weight more than just walking the hallway, so you shouldn't tire as easily."

"I don't have trunks."

A pair of blue swimming trunks appeared on the table.

"Now you do."

"But-"

"Do you want to waste away in bed all day?" Strange interrupted.

"No."

He didn't want to _drown_ , either, though.

"Then do it my way, and you'll be on your feet in no time."

Peter sighed, and reached for the shorts.

"Okay."

"Get changed. I'll be back for you in five minutes."

OOOOOOOOO

Ten minutes later Peter was standing on the edge of an Olympic sized swimming pool, looking down at the water – which said three feet on this end but was probably much deeper. Stark and Strange were standing on either side of him, and the doctor had a hand on his back. Of the three, Peter was the only one dressed in trunks.

"Are you sure about this?"

"You'll be fine."

"The pool's heated," Tony added, trying to be helpful. He could tell Peter was nervous, but this wasn't something he could really assist with. He was a little old to have him stand in the water holding his arms out and telling him to jump.

"Maybe we-"

"In you go," Strange said, his arm straightening and pushing Peter into the water.

He came up sputtering, grabbing the edge of the pool, but his feet found the bottom immediately and he stood up, shivering a little, despite the warm water.

"Stay in the shallow end," Strange admonished. "Hold onto the edge if you need to. Three laps is a good start."

"Are you alright?" Tony asked.

Peter nodded, wiping his hair out of his eyes. The lap lanes were clear on the bottom of the pool, but he wasn't going to get into the deep water if he could avoid it, and he knew that Strange didn't intend for him to. Instead he started for the other side, following the shallow edge.

"He'll be fine," Stephen murmured to Stark once the boy was out of earshot.

"If anything happens pull him out."

"Nothing is going to happen."

Besides, pulling him out would be as easy as getting them there in the first place. Strange hadn't even made Peter walk to the pool. Rather than wear him out in the corridors, he'd simply moved all three of them directly to the pool, his hand on Peter's elbow to steady him at the sudden transport. The same way he'd take him back to his room when they were done.

Stark was half tempted to send Strange into the water as well, with a well-placed push, but the casual display of the other man's ability was a reminder that he wouldn't be the only one in the drink if he decided to pull that particular stunt. Instead he watched as Peter inched his way along the pool, getting more comfortable with the water with each step.


	30. Chapter 31

Peter finished all three laps, walking in the water from one side of the shallow end to the other with his hand never leaving the tiled lip of the pool. For the last lap, he was putting most of his weight on that hand, using his arm to pull himself along, since he was as tired as he could ever remember being. His legs felt like they had weights attached to his ankles as he took the last steps to the edge where Strange and Stark were both watching him intently.

But he did it.

Tony reached a hand down for Peter and pulled him out of the water with one fluid motion, keeping him upright with an arm around him when his legs threatened to give way.

"You okay?"

"Yeah."

"Ready for a break?"

"Definitely."

Strange took Peter's wrist and checked his pulse, looked into his eyes and then nodded and handed him a towel that hadn't been in his hand a minute ago.

"Good job. We'll do this a couple times a day. You'll be good to go before you know it."

Peter wanted to object, but there wasn't a good reason for him to do so. He knew he wasn't in any danger in the shallow end of the pool and he was the one who had been so eager to get out of bed in the first place.

He couldn't argue with the doctor's methods – especially if they worked. He pulled the towel around his shoulders and nodded.

"Okay."

"We're not going to _kill_ him trying to rehab him," Stark said, more than willing to voice his concerns. He was close enough to Peter that he could feel the boy shaking. Whether from the cold air after the heated pool, or exhaustion, it didn't matter.

"He's not going to die, Tony. Hold him close."

That was the only warning Strange gave before he moved all three of them back to Peter's room. Stark's grip tightened as they stumbled just a little at the change of location and both of them were startled to find that Peter was now dry, and dressed in warm pajamas. Someone had been in to clean, and to remake the bed, but Peter didn't even notice that.

"Wow."

Strange winked at Peter in acknowledgement of the impression he'd made, and turned his attention back to Stark as he pulled the blanket down on the bed.

"He's young, and healthy. He'll recover his stamina in a bit."

"Not _that_ healthy," Tony grumbled, helping Peter into the bed. "Not yet."

"He will be," the doctor promised. He rolled the table over to the bedside and two trays appeared, loaded with a late dinner. Dinner for two, Peter saw. Clearly now that his powers were known, Strange didn't have any hesitation about using them when it was convenient. "Eat and then get some sleep, Peter. I'll see you in the morning."

"Thanks."

The doctor nodded to both of them, and then vanished.

"That's so cool."

Stark rolled his eyes, unwilling to admit that _he_ was impressed, too.

"The chicken's probably dry."

OOOOOOOOO

They ate their dinner, but Peter was nodding over it before he was even close to being finished. Tony kept him awake, though, knowing that he needed more than just the occasional bag of chips to keep him going through his recovery. He wasn't a doctor, but he did know that much.

"I'll have Happy get May tomorrow, if you're up for it," he offered, knowing that would distract him from how tired he was.

"That'd be great. She knows I'm awake, right?"

"Yes." He smiled, amused. "She's been checking on you every day."

"She's a worrier."

"Yeah. But this time she has good reason to be. Your job is to reassure her you're going to be fine."

"I will."

"I know."

Stark hesitated, wanting to say something more – more to reassure himself than Peter that, yes, he would be fine. But he didn't know what to say, and if he did, he wouldn't have known how to say it. Instead, he gestured to the meal in front of the boy.

"Finish your dinner."

"Okay."

OOOOOOOOO

Wong looked up from the book he was reading when Stephen Strange appeared in the Sanctum.

"How is the boy?"

"Recovering."

Strange set a sandwich down on the table in front of his friend. Wong recognized it as a silent apology for not being around very much the last couple of weeks.

"I'd be interested in meeting him."

"Not as interested as he will be to meet you, I imagine. Did you find anything?"

"No."

"Then it really _was_ just a misfortunate mistake."

"As near as I can tell, yes. He and his friend would have avoided all of this by washing their hands after leaving the garden."

"Well, boys don't think about such things, I suppose."

"A harsh way to learn a lesson."

"Yes. Thank you for checking."

"You're welcome. What now?"

Strange headed for the door.

"I'm going to eat, and then I'm going to get some sleep."


	31. Chapter 32

" _Peter…"_

 _He started to open his eyes, wondering even as he did so who was waking him up. He sensed a moment of chagrin, and immediately felt something – or someone – calming him. A sensation that left him feeling more tired than before, and pulled him from wakefulness._

" _No…" the voice was silky and smooth, and he recognized it immediately, although he couldn't remember where he'd heard it before, and he couldn't place a face to it. "No, no, no… I need you_ asleep _, my boy – if you don't mind."_

 _He opened his eyes, even as he realized he was still sleeping somehow, and saw a man standing in front of him. Someone he didn't know. Someone who seemed to_ look _like someone he knew, and then shifted a little into someone he'd never seen before. That sense inside him started screaming at him, telling him that this wasn't normal, and he needed to wake up._

 _The sensation of restfulness enfolded him, though, overcoming that warning, and the man smiled, clearly trying to assure him that all was well._

" _Relax, Peter," the man told him. "I'm not here to hurt you. I just want to talk."_

" _Who are you?" Peter asked._

" _That's not important. In fact, it's probably better I don't tell you."_

" _Why?"_

" _Let's just say I'm not at the top of your current friends' happy to see you list."_

" _What?"_

" _Trust me."_

" _What do you want?"_

" _I told you. I want to talk to you."_

" _About what?"_

" _The Avengers. They_ like _you."_

 _Peter shrugged._

" _I don't know about that, but they're nice."_

" _Why?"_

" _What?"_

" _Why do they like you? You beat the crap out of all of them, you know? You're an imposition. They should be mad. I would be."_

" _I don't know," Peter answered, honestly, relaxing since nothing bad was happening in his dream._

" _Not because of your abilities."_

" _No. I don't even know who knows what I can do."_

" _All of them do," the man told him. "But they still like you. I'm trying to figure out why. There must be something about you… I just can't lay a finger on it. And I've tried. Something they've seen coming that they're grooming you for?"_

 _Peter shrugged._

" _I doubt it. They're all a lot more powerful than I am."_

" _I'd hate to have to dissect you to figure it out…"_

 _There was a sudden implication of menace in the voice, now, and that Spidey Sense, as Ned called it, started screaming at him again. This time Peter listened to it, and felt the comfort that had been embracing him slip a little. Enough that he woke._

"Easy…"

Tony Stark had been dozing next to Peter's bed. Not that he felt he really needed to, since the fever and hallucinations seemed to be routed, but he wanted to make sure before letting May take a turn as she probably would want to the next evening. Now he was glad that he had.

Peter woke him mumbling in his sleep – almost like he was having a conversation with someone, but he hadn't seemed afraid as he had many of the other times, and he wasn't thrashing about. So Tony had simply stayed close, ready to hold him down if things went south but otherwise waiting to see if he worked through it on his own and went back to sleep. He didn't, though. While Stark watched his expression contorted with sudden fear and he woke up, looking around.

" _Damn it!" The presence faded with a curse._

"Easy _…._ " Tony soothed, his hand on Peter's shoulder, keeping him from hurting himself. "It's me."

"Mr. Stark."

"Yeah."

"Where is he?"

"Who?"

Peter forced himself upright, shrugging off Tony's grip.

"The man."

" _Who_ , Peter?"

"I don't know."

"You had a bad dream."

"No."

"Yes. There's no one here. I've been here the entire time. I promise you."

"But it was so real…" Peter told him. "I _saw_ him. He was…"

"What?"

"I don't know," Peter admitted, the wild look fading as he tried to remember a dream that was slipping away quickly.

"Did you know him?" Tony asked.

"I don't think so. I think I've dreamed of him before…"

Stark nodded, and patted Peter's shoulder.

"So you _did_ have a dream."

"But it was so real," Peter repeated. "It didn't seem like a dream. He was… "

"Was it frightening?"

"No. _Maybe_."

If he wasn't so concerned, Tony would have rolled his eyes. There was nothing as impossible as interrogating someone who had just woken up and he knew better.

"Go back to sleep," Stark told him, squeezing his shoulder, gently. "We'll talk more about it in the morning."

"No. I should probably stay awake for a while. In case he comes back."

"He's not _real_ , Peter."

"Yeah, Mr. Stark. I think he is."

"Are your _senses_ telling you that? Or your reaction to the nightmare?"

"I don't know."

"Go to sleep, Peter. I'll stay with you."

"He might come back."

"He won't."

"But if he does…"

"Then I'll go _Ironman_ on his ass."

Peter smiled, and allowed Tony to press him back down to his pillows, but he didn't close his eyes. He wasn't ready to go back to sleep just yet.

"Thanks, Mr. Stark."

"You're welcome. Now go to sleep."

Ignoring the boy in hopes of allowing his lethargy to lull him back to sleep, Tony pulled out his phone and leaned back in his chair, feet back up on the edge of the bed to make himself more comfortable. While he pretended to be interested in his phone, though, he was really hyper alert, Just in case. He was also surfing the internet, looking for anything that might explain the dream, not-dream that Peter was experiencing. He didn't find anything, though, that fit what he was being told – and what Peter had been going through.

When he looked back at the boy, though, he was relieved to see that he'd fallen asleep again. He made a purely mental note to talk to Strange about the dreams, though. Preferably before he brought May back


	32. Chapter 33

"So was it a dream?" Strange asked softly as the two of them watched Peter walking away from them, clinging to the edge of the pool like a lifeline.

"It _had_ to be. I was there, and no one else was. He's past the hallucinations, right?"

"He appears to be."

"This wasn't like the other ones," Tony said. "The ones that were freaking him out. He wasn't fighting me, and he woke up knowing exactly who he was, and where he was. It had to be a dream."

"About a man he doesn't know…?"

"That's what he said."

"I'll ask him about it later," Strange promised as Peter reached the far side of the pool and turned back toward them. "We'll make sure it's just a dream."

"Thanks."

Strange had joined them early that morning, walking through the door, the swimming trunks in hand. He'd mentioned getting the water walk out of the way before breakfast so both of them were expecting him, even though they'd only been awake a short time. Peter changed into the shorts, but Strange wasn't ready for him to walk his way through the corridors, yet, and moved them to the pool the same way he had the night before. Which would never get old as far as Peter was concerned.

This time the pool wasn't empty. There were a few early risers swimming laps, but they weren't at the shallow end for any longer than it took to do a turn around on the lap and head back for the deep end, and as slowly as Peter was moving none of them had a problem timing their turns to let him go through their lane on his trek to the other side.

Tony had waited until Peter was out of earshot before mentioning the dream, and had pointed out that the rest of the night had gone by quietly. Peter had slept all night, and hadn't uttered a peep. He definitely looked better for the sleep both men decided. He was still shaky when upright, but Strange had reassured both of them that it would pass with more activity and they didn't have any reason to doubt him.

"Peter!"

The boy stopped in mid stride at Natasha's approach, holding onto the side of the pool, but smiling up at her. He hadn't realized that she had been one of the lap swimmers, but she'd noticed him immediately, of course. She'd finished her last lap, and had pulled herself out of the water. Wrapping a towel around her waist, and drying her hair with another, she walked over to where he had just started back toward the other side of the pool

"Hi."

"I thought you couldn't swim?" she said, kneeling down in front of him so they wouldn't have to yell over the sounds of splashing that the other swimmers were making. After spending time with Peter, she probably knew more about him than anyone in the facility, other than Stark, and her interrogations skills were certainly up to dealing with one somewhat shy fifteen year old.

"I can't. Doctor Strange said water walking would help me get on my feet faster than just walking in the hallways."

She looked over to where Strange was standing next to Tony Stark, both men watching Peter's progress.

"He seems to know his stuff."

"Yeah."

"How do you feel?"

"Pretty good."

She smiled.

"You _look_ better."

"Thanks."

"You know… _Clint_ could teach you how to swim if you want. I'd do it, but I'm not a very good teacher."

Peter blanched, and even though he tried to hide it, she saw the fear of that particular idea lurking in his eyes.

"I don't know…"

"Think about it, okay? He taught his kids, and _they're_ probably not as buoyant as you are."

He nodded. It was really hard for him to say no to her. Of course, he wasn't the only one who had that problem, he just didn't know it.

"Okay."

"Good. See you later?"

"Yeah."

Stark and Strange didn't miss the interruption. Natasha was always noticed, unless she didn't want to be. They watched as she crouched down to exchange a few words with Peter, who was clearly enjoying the conversation.

"What do you think they're talking about?"

"Who cares? It's a good distraction from being miserable."

"She can definitely be a distraction," Tony agreed.

"I can see why."

They watched with unabashed male appreciation as Natasha stood up again and headed their way, leaving Peter to start walking again. She smiled a good morning to the two, but rather than walk by, she stopped.

"How is he doing?"

"Slept all night," Tony told her. "Except for one weird dream about a guy that wasn't there."

She frowned.

"Yesterday afternoon he had a dream that someone called his name. Kept looking for him when he woke up, even though I told him it was just us."

Tony looked at Strange.

" _Reoccurring_ dream? Is that a symptom of something?"

The doctor shrugged, but didn't dismiss it out of hand.

"I'll talk to him about it," he promised.

"See if you can convince him to let Clint teach him how to swim, too, will you?" Natasha said. "He looks terrified, even in the shallows."

Both men turned their backs on her to look at Peter, who looked no more comfortable in the water today than he had the day before.

"Apparently he took a long walk off a short pier when he was nine," Strange told them, remembering the conversation he'd had with the boy. "We'll work on him. Learning to swim would be a good diversion."

"I know another," Natasha told them.

Before either could turn to ask what it was, both men felt a hand on the small of their backs, and were suddenly tumbling into the pool, too surprised by the sudden treachery to do more than yelp. Natasha watched as they came up spluttering, her mien utterly unrepentant when they looked up at her, hair plastered to their heads and water dripping into their eyes.

"I could have Clint teach you, as well," she said with an impish smile. She waved at Peter, who had watched the scene, so surprised that he let go of the edge of the pool and didn't even realize it, and then walked away, heading for the locker room.

The two men stood in the water for a long moment, staring at her retreating figure, and Strange shook his head, finally, water tickling his ear as it dripped down from his hair. It had been a long time since someone had been so impudent around him. He kind of missed it.

"I already _know_ how to swim."

He waded to the edge and pulled himself out, rather than bother to transfer himself with magic. Tony followed suit, and Peter came over to them, looking up at them with wide eyes. They were soaked to the skin, looking like a couple of drowned rats.

"What did you say to her?"

Tony ran his fingers through his wet hair and shook his head.

"Peter. One thing you'll learn as you get older is that when it comes to women, it doesn't matter what you say. Even if it's exactly what they want to hear, it'll still get you wet if they want you to be wet."

Strange just nodded his agreement.


	33. Chapter 34

Tony grabbed a towel and excused himself to go change, after making sure Strange was willing to keep an eye on Peter while he did so. With a thought the doctor had almost immediately changed from dripping suit into a pair of slacks and a polo shirt so he was willing to watch Peter finish his water walking. Tony would have taken him up on the offer of doing the same for him if he hadn't been sure that he'd end up in plaid or something equally distasteful. He had plenty of clothes in his quarters, he could go change.

Since Stark wasn't back when Peter finished his three laps, it was Strange who helped him out of the water this time and steadied the boy when he transferred them to his room. Peter was more than willing to accept a change of clothes as well, and the wet shorts became a pair of sweats and a long sleeved t-shirt.

"Tell me about these dreams you're having," Strange said, pulling the table over while Peter sat on the bed – but didn't get under the blankets. The fact that he wasn't in pajamas made him assume that the doctor wasn't going to insist that he slept immediately, and even though he was weary, he knew it was more from the water walking than from any need for sleep.

Peter shrugged.

"There isn't much to tell. I don't really remember."

Three trays appeared on the table, all filled with pancakes, eggs and sausage. The two cups of coffee told him that Stark was almost certainly going to join them for breakfast, and he wasn't surprised when the man appeared at the door less than a minute later.

"What _do_ you remember?" Strange asked when the two men settled in chairs on either side of his bed.

"Someone calling my name."

"It seemed to be an entire _conversation_ last night," Tony said, taking a sip of his coffee before pouring syrup on his pancakes.

"I don't remember."

"Did he threaten you?" Strange asked. Meaning, _was it scary_?

"No. I don't – he said he wanted to talk." This came out in a rush as the memory came back to him.

"About what?" Tony asked.

"I don't know," Peter admitted.

"Did he tell you his name?"

"It was just a dream," Peter told them, feeling foolish to make them worry about something that was probably nothing. "I probably had a fever or something and made it up."

"Or it was something more nefarious," Strange countered.

Tony looked over at him.

" _Nefarious_? Really?"

"It's called a _vocabulary_ , Tony. You should try it some time."

Stark snorted, amused, and looked at Peter, gesturing to his tray.

"Eat. If you don't try to think about it, you might remember something else."

"Okay."

He was hungry enough that he didn't have to be told twice. Besides, it was frustrating to not be able to remember something he was trying so hard to recall. As he made his way methodically through the meal, Strange and Stark discussed the dreams, and Tony pointed out that he'd seen it happen not just the night before but he'd seen it happen a couple of days ago as well.

"But not before Peter became ill?"

"He wasn't here before he got sick."

The men looked at Peter, who shook his head.

"I've never had them before," he confirmed.

"So they could be a side-effect of the illness…" Strange murmured.

"But you don't think so, right?" Tony said.

"No. It wouldn't make sense. It's odd."

They were silent as they finished eating, and Strange cleared the table.

"Peter. I know you're probably not that tired, but I want you to get some rest. You _look_ tired. If your aunt is coming later, we'll want you to look a little less washed-out than you do right now."

"And maybe he'll have another dream so we can get to the bottom of things," Stark said.

Strange shook his head.

"I'm not worried about the dreams. Not as much as I am that he gets some sleep." He patted the boy's leg. "We don't want your aunt to worry, right?"

Peter had to agree with that.

"Can I stay with him?"

"Will you let him sleep?"

"Of course."

"Then go ahead. I'll be back to check on you later."

This time he didn't bother with the door, he just vanished.

"Too bad we can't do that," Peter said.

"Where would you go?" Tony asked him, motioning for him to cover up. The last thing he wanted was for the boy to catch a chill, especially now that he seemed to be getting better – finally.

"Anywhere."

"Like?"

"I don't know. Hawaii?"

"He's just going to the city."

"How do you know that?"

"That's where I found him."

"Oh." Peter liked the thought of Strange not living so far away. "That's cool."

"Go to sleep."

OOOOOOOOOOOOO

"What are _you_ doing back so soon?"

"Something is going on."

Wong frowned, watching as Strange went to the bookshelf and looked over the titles before picking one up and flipping through the pages.

"What do you mean?"

"Peter's having dreams."

"The hallucinations?"

"It doesn't sound like it."

"Someone meddling with him?"

"Perhaps."

"Do we block it?"

Stephen hesitated, and then shook his head and closed the book, returning it to the shelf.

"No. But watch for anything new from the past week or so. This is a new development and if it's a _person_ doing it, they're bound to leave a trace of themselves behind."

"What do you think it is?"

"Hopefully it's just a couple of over-protective, ultra-suspicious father figures."

"And if it _isn't_?"

"Then someone has made a huge mistake."


	34. Chapter 35

Despite the fact that he didn't think he was tired, Peter went to sleep almost immediately. Even though he was only walking in water, he was exhausted by the therapy and his body screamed for rest after so many days of being ill. Not to mention he was stuffed to the gills with a good breakfast. Tony didn't have anywhere that he absolutely had to be, and his phone was in his office drying out from his dunking in the pool earlier, but he knew that anyone who needed him would know where to find him and would come looking for him.

He put his feet up and pulled out his tablet, figuring to work on some of the things that had been piling up the last week or so. But he barely got started when there was a soft tap on the door and Happy stuck his head into the room.

"I'm going into the city."

He wasn't asking for permission or anything, just making sure that the plan was still for him to go get May.

Tony nodded.

"Drive safe."

"Need me to bring you anything before I go?"

"No. I'm good. Thanks."

Happy's gaze went to the bed.

"How's the kid? You know she's going to ask."

He _did_ know.

"Tell her he's doing well. Slept through the night last night. Fever's broken and we're working on getting him on his feet."

"Okay."

"Drive safe."

"Always."

The door closed and Tony turned his attention to the boy. He leaned over and carefully ran his hand along his forehead, brushing his hair back, testing to make sure there was no fever. His forehead was warm but not fevered, and dry.

Peter stirred just a little, reacting to the touch, but tired enough that it didn't wake him, and Tony leaned back into the chair to keep from disturbing him. He sighed and closed his eyes, deciding that if Peter could sleep, he might as well do the same. Work could wait, and he'd had enough broken nights lately that he could use the opportunity to catch up on some missed sleep.

OOOOOOOOOOO

 _"You're a puzzle, Peter Parker."_

 _Peter tensed, uncertain if he should be wary or not. Something screamed that this wasn't normal, but the man talking to him wasn't trying to frighten him. In fact, it seemed to him that he was trying to keep him at ease._

 _"I don't understand."_

 _"I don't, either. What's your relationship with Tony Stark?"_

 _"He's a friend."_

 _A lot more than that, but Peter couldn't admit that. Not to himself and certainly not to this stranger. Peter looked up to Stark more than anyone – except May. He owed her everything and he knew it. And knew she loved him, even though he had to be more trouble than he was worth. But Tony Stark was pretty much everything Peter wanted to be. A hero._

 _The man scowled, as if he didn't care for Peter's train of thought going where he wasn't directing it. Peter shied from the expression, and felt the calm command the man had over his dream slipping._

 _"Who are you?" he asked. "What do you want with me?"_

 _"You're a puzzle I'm trying to solve," was the reply. "Nothing more."_

 _"Who are you?" Peter asked again, thinking if he kept asking the man might get annoyed enough to actually answer._

 _The smile that creased the stranger's face told him that he clearly wasn't devious enough to pull that off._

 _"Oh, no, my boy. That's my secret."_

 _"Who-"_

A hand on his shoulder woke him in mid-sentence, breaking the hold on his mind.

"Peter."

He froze, opening his eyes but holding still. Doctor Strange was leaning over him, his expression unreadable, but his gaze intense as he met Peter's. He had grabbed Peter's arms with his hands, holding him still.

"What happened?"

"You had another dream."

Peter looked over at Stark, but the man was asleep in the chair beside his bed. There was something wrong with that, though. Peter thought that Tony would have woken up when he did.

"What?"

"Come with me."

Again his mind was screaming warnings.

"But Mr. Stark…"

"He's fine. We need to have a talk. Some place private."

Strange pulled the blanket back for Peter, who struggled upright. He couldn't concentrate. Those spider senses of Ned's were telling him something was wrong but he didn't know what it was, and he couldn't seem to focus enough to make any sense of what was happening.

"Wait. _What_?"

Strange turned toward him, impatient.

" _Hurry."_

Then it hit him. Strange's eyes were fine. The bruise that Peter had given him was gone, and that was _wrong_. Even as he realized it, the hand on his elbow tightened. And then it was gone, and so was Doctor Strange. A stab of pain sliced through his mind and he groaned, turning his face against the pillows.

"Peter!"

Rough hands were shaking him.

"Peter!"

He turned his head and saw Strange leaning over him, hands holding him down, his expression concerned. Peter tried to pull away, writhing in the doctor's grip, trying to free himself. The man was a lot stronger than he looked.

"Easy!"

" _Let me go!"_

"Peter!"

Strong arms wrapped around him from behind, pinning his arms to his sides. Arms covered in metal. Strange let him go and stepped back. The black eye was back.

 _"Stop!"_

The voice in his ear was familiar, and he turned his head to look at the chair. It was empty. A cheek pressed against his from behind but the arms remained tight, still holding him.

"Easy… It's okay. I've got you…"

Breathing hard, Peter turned as much as he could to confirm what he was hearing. It looked like Tony Stark holding him, but the man wasn't looking at him, he was watching Strange, and his grip never loosened on Peter.

"Mr. Stark…"

"What the hell was _that_?" Stark asked.

"Someone is definitely messing with Peter." Strange said.

"My dreams?" Peter asked.

" _That_ wasn't a dream."

"What was it?" Tony asked again. Now he wasn't holding Peter to contain him, he was holding him as if trying to protect him.

"Did I relapse?" Peter asked, still not able to move, but afraid that he might be going crazy. "Am I still sick?"

"This isn't like before," Stark said to Strange.

"No. It's an outside force."

"A person?"

Strange stepped up to Peter now that he was calm and wasn't trying to fight him.

"Who was it?"

The boy shook his head.

"He wouldn't tell me. Then he was _you_ , trying to get me to go with him."

"Where?"

"I don't know. He just kept saying he wanted to talk to me, but-"

"Did he threaten you?" Tony asked.

"No. He said I was a puzzle he was trying to figure out."

Stark looked at Strange.

"What do we do?"

"You're going to stay with Peter. Whoever this is, he just exposed himself. It might take some time, but I'll figure out who he is, now. He can't hide."

"And in the meantime? How do we keep him out of Peter's head?"

"That is already taken care of." He looked at Peter, holding his gaze with his own. "I know it hurt, but I blocked your mind from him – from anyone. Anything you see now is only real."

"And the dreams?" Peter asked.

"Only your own."

"Okay."

He looked at Stark.

"I'll be back as soon as I can."

"You find him, I get a piece of him."

Strange hesitated, but then he nodded.

"Fair enough."

He vanished, and Peter slumped back against Tony's chest, shaking from reaction. Stark disengaged the metal suit and simply held the boy against him, giving him comfort and support and taking a little for himself. When he felt the trembling stop after several long minutes, he ran his fingers through Peter's hair.

"We need a diversion, don't you think?"

Peter nodded, but he couldn't think of anything that could take his mind off this. He definitely didn't feel like resting, though.


	35. Chapter 36

Strange appeared in the Sanctum only moments after leaving Stark and Peter. He wasn't surprised that Wong was waiting for him.

"You felt it?"

"I couldn't have missed it."

Not tuned in to the boy as he had been like Strange had asked him to be.

"Did you see anything?"

" _All_ of it."

The two men headed for the library, which would be quieter and give them the peace they needed for the spell they were about to share. Not a difficult one, not when they knew each other so well, but not the easiest thing to do, either. They'd need to concentrate, and Strange would want to be able to process what he was going to see.

They sat down across from each other and closed their eyes, and Wong showed Strange what he'd seen. Several times. It wasn't exactly like watching a video of the events and he hadn't been so tuned in to Peter that he could hear his _thoughts_ , but the emotions were easy to see and feel and when they had gleaned everything from the spell that they could, Wong opened his eyes and shook his head.

"He must be gifted."

"Peter?"

"Yes. That isn't a human doing this. Not someone from here, I mean. You can tell whoever it was wasn't expecting the resistance he was getting. It was frustrating him."

Strange nodded. He hadn't missed that, either, but Wong had picked up on nuances that he might not have – which is why he had had him watching in the first place.

"He isn't _magically_ gifted," Stephen said. "Not as far as I can tell. But he does have a sense – a sixth sense – that he couldn't explain very well when we discussed it. He says his friend calls it a spider's sense. It must be what made him realize something was wrong, even after the dream had apparently ended. It just took his mind a bit to catch on."

"This man…" Wong told him. "This creature shaped like a man. He's not of Earth."

"No," Strange agreed. "I got that, too. Definitely not."

Which didn't mean anything. They had an entire library to assist them, though, and they both knew that it was only a matter of putting the feeling of this person together with the right people, or realm, or even dimension. It might take a while but both men were up to the challenge.

OOOOOOOOO

Their diversion came knocking even before Tony had a chance to go looking for one. Natasha had decided that there should be a break in her training day and had come looking for Peter to see if he wanted to have lunch with her. Not in bed. In the lounge where she could show off her good looking friend and his amazingly terrible luck at cards.

Since Strange had never told Peter that he had to stay in bed, Stark had decided that it was a good idea, looking at Peter to see if the boy agreed. He had simply nodded, and hoped that the lounge, as she called it, wasn't so far away that he'd look stupid staggering around trying to find it. He didn't need to worry about that, though. After making sure he was comfortable in the sweats and long-sleeved t-shirt, Tony produced the boy's sneakers and some socks, and with one of them lending a shoulder on either side, they pretty much carried him to their destination.

"This place is crazy," Peter said, looking around when they walked through a broad glass entranceway. He hadn't had much chance to see anything of the new Avenger's facility until now, and he could understand why Ned had been so excited. The lounge was even cooler, really, with tables, sofas, TVs, video games and a bar that went the entire length of one wall. There must also have been some kind of kitchen, because he could smell burgers and fries and his stomach literally cramped with hunger when they walked in.

"Home away from home," Tony told him, waving his free arm expansively. "Come on, let's get you off your feet before Strange comes back and says you have to go back to bed."

While he and Natasha settled Peter at one of the tables, Steve Rogers joined them, holding a glass of iced tea. He smiled a greeting to Natasha and Stark, but his experienced gaze was assessing Peter.

"You look a lot better," he told the boy, clearly pleased.

"It feels good to get up," Peter replied, looking at Stark and wondering if the others knew about the dreams he'd had.

Tony shook his head just a bit, understanding the look immediately, but he was talking to Rogers when he spoke next.

"We decided he needed to get out of bed."

"Being in bed is boring," Natasha agreed.

"Well, it has its _moments_ ," Tony said. Then realized the company he was keeping and smiled. "But that is neither here nor there. I'm starved. Peter?"

"Yeah."

"I'll be back."

Tony didn't hesitate to leave the boy with Steve and Natasha. If he had his choice of people to watch the boy and keep him safe – even though Strange didn't think there would be anything to worry about right then – those two would have been his first choice. He headed for the kitchen behind the wall the bar was against, planning to order up a huge lunch.

"How do you feel?" Steve asked, sitting down across from Peter.

"Better."

"I heard you were in the pool this morning."

"Yeah."

"That'll get you back to condition quicker than anything."

"Unless I _drown_."

Natasha and Steve both smiled at that. Peter didn't like the water, but they could tell drowning in the shallow end was not his biggest fear.

"We won't let that happen," Natasha assured him, putting her hand on his shoulder before excusing herself for a moment.

"It's good to see you on your feet," Steve told him. Better to see him looking so much healthier than before. "We can show you some of the facility, once you-"

He was interrupted by the return of Natasha, who wasn't alone. Banner and Clint were with her, and they were carrying large bags of M&Ms and Natasha had a deck of cards. She smiled when she and the others sat down around the table, and Peter felt just a stab of guilt at all the bruises and cuts he saw on those assembled. They didn't even mention it, though.

"Now, let's see if you're better at _Poker_ than you are at UNO," Clint told him, pulling out the cards while the others reached for piles of weren't adverse to the idea of having a break in their training day, either.

"He can't be any worse," Banner pointed out.

By the time Tony returned with two plates loaded down with burgers and fries, the game was well under way, and Peter was already proving Bruce wrong.


	36. Chapter 37

"What's the matter, Rudolph? The other reindeer won't let you play their games?"

Tony looked up from his tablet and smiled. May and Pepper were standing beside the sofa he was sitting on, and he hadn't even noticed that they'd arrived. He stood up, and shook his head, looking over at the poker game going on at the table close by.

"They don't want me to play. I'd win."

He actually didn't mind not playing; instead he'd been content to sit nearby, listening to the sound of the people on his team enjoying themselves as they teased Peter for being so bad at cards, and teased each other for other things.

"I can't believe you're still letting him play cards," May said, shaking her head, but obviously relieved to see her nephew upright and looking much better than he had the last time she'd seen him. "How much does he owe, now?"

Stark motioned for them to sit down on the sofa, and when they did he settled beside Pepper, taking her hand absently but looking over at the game to make sure the boy wasn't looking worse for wear for having been out of bed for so long.

"They're playing for _candy_ , not money."

"How's he doing?"

"I've been to the vending machine three times."

She smiled at that, and waved to Peter who was looking over at her, but motioned for him to keep his spot. She wanted to run over and hug him, relieved that he looked so much better, but she knew that would embarrass him and she'd save that for another time.

"He _looks_ better."

"He's doing better. Doctor Strange has him in the pool twice a day, getting his stamina back. Other than that he says he just needs to eat and rest."

"Peter can't swim."

"We know. He's just walking in the shallow end. It's good for him, trust me."

May nodded, but the conversation did make him wonder if some of Peter's inhibition about water came from her. She looked over at the game again and smiled.

"Ned's going to be so upset that he missed a chance to play poker with Captain America."

"He was invited," Tony said.

"It's a school night. His mother wouldn't care if it was something to help get Peter better, but this is just a social call so it wasn't going to happen."

"He'll be invited next time."

"I _did_ get Peter's homework," she told him. "He's already pretty far behind, I didn't want it to get worse."

"He'll be fine."

If nothing else, he'd help him with it later.

OOOOOOOOO

"You know if you eat all those you're going to get _fat_."

Clint smirked at Natasha as he raked in his newest pile of winnings.

"You're just jealous."

"No. I want to fit into my clothes in the morning."

"Shouldn't have gone all in with a pair of threes," Steve told her, amused.

"I didn't think he'd call my bluff."

"You should have known better," Barton said. "You have an amazing poker face, Nat, but they don't call me Hawkeye for no reason."

"What does that mean?"

"You have a tell."

"No I don't."

Clint nodded.

"You do."

"I don't."

"Yes, you do."

"You do," Steve agreed.

"What?" she scowled at both men, and then looked at Peter, who was watching with a slight smile, still somewhat amazed at the company he was keeping, although he was enjoying himself immensely. "I _don't_ have a tell. Don't listen to them."

"They're right," Peter told her. "You tap your left pinky against the cards when you're-"

Clint reached over and wrapped his arm around Peter's head, his hand covering the boy's mouth.

"Don't _tell_ her! I want to win next time, too."

Natasha looked surprised.

"I have a tell?"

All the people around the table nodded.

"Damn."

Barton let Peter go, grinning at the boy and impressed that he'd been observant enough to notice.

"You know her tell and you _still_ manage to lose?"

"She never bluffed me."

Steve smiled and looked at his watch.

"Time to call it, guys. I need to get some things done – and Peter's aunt probably wants a chance to talk to him."

The others didn't even argue, they just started gathering up their winnings. Peter didn't have many M&Ms to pick up, but he didn't mind. He'd really had a good time, even losing.

"Do you need me to help you back to your room?" Natasha asked him, stealing some candy from Clint's pile to add to the bag she already had.

"No, thanks." He pushed his paltry stack of candy to her. "Thank you for the game. I had fun."

"You're good company." Her sincerity made him blush and that made her smile. "I'll see you later?"

"Yeah."

They left him sitting at the table, but he wasn't alone for long. May had seen the game breaking up and she went over to spend some time with him and make sure he was really doing as well as Tony told her he was.

OOOOOOOOOOO

"How is he _really_ doing?" Pepper asked once May had left them to go sit with Peter. They watched as she hugged him, and then ran her hand along his forehead, clearly checking for fever.

Tony shrugged.

"He's better than before."

"Natasha told me he was having weird dreams?"

"They're being taken care of."

She frowned at the way he'd phrased that.

"What do you mean?"

"Stephen is working on finding the cause."

"It's _neurological_?"

"No. I'll explain it all to you later, though."

He didn't want May to overhear anything that might make her worry. Pepper nodded, and simply sat next to Tony, enjoying a little time with him while she could. They didn't actually plan it out, but the two of them were giving Peter and his aunt a chance to spend time together as well.


	37. Chapter 38

It was May who helped Stark support Peter as they walked him back to his room. She wanted to hold him anyway, so it worked out well. As they walked Tony described Strange's rehab routine to her, explaining it the same way the doctor had explained it to him and to Peter. She didn't like the idea of Peter being in the pool but the boy pointed out that he was only in the shallows and he wasn't ever alone. Since Peter wasn't against the plan, she couldn't voice much opposition to it, really. Especially since it seemed to be working, even though he was certainly leaning heavily on the support they were giving him, and they both heard his sigh of relief when he finally got to his bed and sprawled on it.

"I'll leave you guys alone for a while," Tony said, watching as she covered Peter with a blanket. "Peter? You should get some sleep if you can."

He nodded, too tired from the walk to deny that he needed it.

"I will."

"How are you doing?" May asked when he'd left them alone.

"I'm good," he assured her. "Just tired."

She sat down on the bed beside him, and put her arm around his shoulder.

"Don't you _ever_ scare me like that again, young man."

He leaned against her and closed his eyes.

"I'm sorry."

She might have said something else, but he fell asleep and didn't hear it.

OOOOOOOOOO

Wong looked up from the book he'd been referencing. They'd been in the library for hours, looking through books, and using magic to direct them where they needed to be in order to find the source of the trace they'd both felt. His gaze went to Strange, who had just uttered a very soft curse.

"Did you notice?"

"Asgardian."

"Yes."

Strange scowled.

"I don't like _that_. What possible interest would any of them have in Peter?"

"Not any of them. Only _one_."

"Yes."

"Do we bring him to us?"

"I don't care for the idea of having him loose on Earth – especially in New York."

"We could contain him."

Strange smiled at Wong's confidence. He shared it. But he still didn't like that particular plan.

"I think I'll contact the brother and see if he knows what the infatuation is."

Wong shook his head.

"I don't imagine Loki tells his brother what he's doing. We're better off being proactive and just bringing him here. I could hold him, and you can ask him what's on his slippery mind."

"Let me think about it – and discuss it with Stark."

He wasn't used to discussing his intentions with anyone, really, but bringing the god of mischief into New York was something that he didn't want to do if he could avoid it. Maybe the Avenger facility had a space he could use instead of the Sanctum – although the Sanctum was filled with magical protections. At least they wouldn't have to worry about having millions of people around them if something went wrong.

"I'll prepare things here, just in case."

"Thank you."

Strange gave his friend a slight nod and vanished.

OOOOOOOOOOO

Tony was back in the lounge. He could have been working in a lab on some of the new tech that he wanted to develop but he was restless and didn't feel like he would be able to concentrate on anything just then. Pepper had gone to get something to eat, and he could have joined her. Instead, he was sitting in an upholstered chair nursing a drink and brooding.

The lounge was empty at the moment. It was that time of day when everyone was almost certainly finishing up whatever duties they had, were finding something to eat – or if they weren't residents, they had gone home. He didn't mind the silence; he brooded best when he was alone, and he knew it.

"We need to talk."

He didn't jump at the sudden appearance of Strange behind his chair, but he _did_ almost spill his drink. Which made him scowl. He turned in the chair and looked up, ready to make a quip about putting a bell on him, but the man's expression was serious enough that he didn't. Instead he stood up.

"What did you find?"

" _Who_ is the better question," Stephen told him, walking over to the bar and pouring himself a drink.

"Who, then?"

"Loki."

Tony frowned, confused.

"Loki? What the hell would he want with Peter?"

"I don't know."

"How would he even _know_ about Peter?"

"I _don't_ know," Strange repeated. "I was thinking the best way to find out would be to ask him."

Tony leaned his elbow on the bar.

"You want to go to Asgard?"

"I was thinking of bringing him here."

"To New York?"

"No. _here_. Wong likes the idea of using the protections in the Sanctum, but I don't like the idea of taking him into the heart of the city. We know what happened the last time."

" _That_ won't happen again."

"No. Wong can contain him while I ask what he's up to, but I'm thinking a show of force might be the best way to impress on him just how foolish it would be for him to continue his present course of action."

"We could do that."

"But not in the city."

"We could probably find a place here. There are gyms, conference rooms, or the commons. Really, as far I'm concerned we can put him in the deep end of the pool and hold him there."

Strange smiled.

"Thor might not approve of that."

"Or he might send flowers."

"So you'd be all right with me bringing him here?"

"Sure. Why not? How would you do it?"

"Getting him here isn't the problem. But I'll want to prepare for him, and we'll want minimal personnel around."

Less exposure, less chance of someone walking into something that they weren't ready for and maybe getting hurt.

"A weekend, then."

"If that would work best."

"He can't get in Peter's head?"

"No chance in hell."

"Then we can wait. It's only two days."

"I'll tell Wong."

"What do you need from me?"

"Just let us know the room you can best afford to lose use of – unless you'd rather do this outside."

"It doesn't matter to you?"

"Not in the least."

"Okay. In the meantime?"

Strange shrugged.

"We get Peter on his feet and healthy."

Tony nodded.

"It's too bad you don't have a spell for that. Or _do_ you?"

There was a slightly amused snort.

"If I did, I would have already used it. I'll be back in time for his nightly water session."

"I'll let you know what room we want to use."

"Not outside?"

"It's supposed to rain. It's harder to intimidate if there's water dripping off your nose."


	38. Chapter 39

_He felt gentle hands picking him up, righting himself and the bicycle he'd fallen on top of._

" _I'm never going to get it."_

 _May hugged him, and her gaze went to the tear in his jeans and the scrape on his elbow. A kiss against his cheek._

" _Of course you will. It just takes time to learn the right balance, that's all." She held him at arms' length, but still she held him, and she smiled. He loved that smile. "Try again?"_

" _What if I fall again?"_

" _Then I'll pick you up again. And again. Until you don't fall anymore."_

" _That might be a long time."_

" _We have all the time you need, Peter. You'll see."_

Fingers lightly brushing his face pulled Peter gently from the dream and he opened his eyes, not at all surprised that May was with him, holding him and smiling down at him as she touched his face. Her expression was gentle, and loving. The same expression he remembered seeing in the dream.

"Hey…"

He watched her gaze change as she looked for any sign of confusion, but there wasn't any. And there was no fear.

"You were dreaming," she told him. "I'm sorry I woke you. I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

"I am."

"You're sure?"

He nodded, not moving. Giving himself a chance to wake up and to hold her like she was holding him. He knew instinctively that moments like this were not going to be as common as they'd been when he was six and he was willing to enjoy it while it lasted.

"I was dreaming about the day you taught me how to ride a bike."

"It was more than one day, as I recall."

"The _first_ day."

"Good dream?" she asked, giving him a little squeeze.

"Yeah."

"I remember that day."

"It was the first time I tried riding since dad took my training wheels off."

He smiled, despite the subject, because it was one of the best memories he had of the man he barely remembered, sometimes. He'd told him he'd teach him when his parents returned from their trip. But they'd never returned and the promise had gone unfulfilled. Until May had pulled the bike from the garage and told him it was time to learn.

Her grip tightened once more, just for a moment, and she smiled, too.

"That was a good day."

"I ended up black and blue and a bit bloody."

"Still a good day."

"Yeah."

They were quiet for a long time, lost in their own memories but happy to be together. A moment that was broken when his stomach growled, loudly, demanding attention.

May laughed, and let him go, ruffling his hair as she did.

"I remember that sound well," she told him. "You wake up a little more, I'll go see if it's dinner time, or what the plan is."

She left and he rubbed his face, feeling better for having had a nap. He sat up in the bed and noticed that his backpack was on the table. Reaching over, he rolled it closer and found a copious amount of homework stuffed into it. He leafed through it, but wasn't ready to start on anything at the moment. Instead he stuffed it back into the bag and rolled the table to the side again. A glance at the clock told him that he'd slept a couple of hours, and that it really was well beyond the dinner hour. He sat on the edge of the bed and started putting on his shoes, anxious to be moving around now that he wasn't so tired, but before he finished, the door opened and Doctor Strange walked in.

"Your aunt told me you were awake and hungry," he said by way of greeting. "How do you feel?"

"Pretty good, really," Peter answered, watching as the man took his pulse and felt his forehead. Peter wasn't hooked up to any of the machinery any longer, so it was the old fashioned way of checking his vitals, now. "A bit restless, maybe?"

"Good." Strange's gaze held his own, and he tried to look as healthy as he could. "You _look_ better already. It helps when you get real sleep, doesn't it?"

"Yeah."

"I want you to do the water therapy before you eat anything heavy. Not because you'll get cramps and _drown_ ," he said with an amused gleam in his eyes. "But because once we feed you, I anticipate you'll probably get sleepy again, and I don't want you dozing off before you get another chance to be on your feet."

"May went to find something to eat."

"I know. I told her to meet us at the pool if she was inclined. I told her I'd bring you."

"Okay."

"I didn't tell her _how_ , however," he added. "And I'd really rather she didn't know. Not because she can't be trusted, or any such nonsense. Mainly because I don't feel like having another conversation about what is and what isn't possible."

Peter nodded. While he felt that he already had too many secrets that he was keeping from his aunt, this one wasn't really his to tell.

"What do you need me to do?"

"We'll transfer to the locker room and go to the pool from there. Once you're more mobile, you'll need a locker there anyway so you're not walking to your room in wet shorts. Tony said he'd set one up for you, so that's our first stop. Ready?"

"Yeah."

Minutes later he was once more dressed in swim trunks and now carried a towel as Strange escorted him out of the men's locker room and into the pool area. May and Tony Stark were already there, sitting on one of the many benches that lined the pool itself.

"That was fast," she said when they walked over.

"You look better," Tony told him, obviously checking him for shakiness or exhaustion with a quick glance.

"I feel better."

"Slept well?"

"Yeah."

"Dreams?"

"Only good ones."

"Good."

"Into the water, Peter," Strange told him. "Five laps tonight."

Stark scowled at that, but didn't say anything, and the two men watched as he started his water walking, with May standing nearby, clearly uneasy about him being in the water at all.

"Did you find a room, yet?" Strange asked, softly.

Tony nodded.

"Got just the place. A reinforced workroom. In the basement."

"I'll look it over, and then have Wong prepare it."

"Peter looks a lot healthier."

"Yes. He'll still tire easily, though, so we won't push him too hard right now. He's going to think he's healthier than he really is for a few days at least."

"We can keep him occupied."

"Did you tell him about Loki?"

"No."

"Are you going to?"

"He's not going to be there."

"He should know, however."

"You don't think that would give him new fodder for nightmares?"

"No. I think he'd be better off knowing what was causing them."

"I'll tell him."

"Good."

Both men noticed when Natasha entered the pool from the women's locker room, and without even thinking about it, at the same time took a couple of prudent steps back, further away from the edge of the pool as she walked over to say hello to Peter.

They were quick learners.


	39. Chapter 40

_Author's note: Wow! 40 chapters! Who would have thought that my first real Avengers story would be so much fun? This one is a little short. It happens sometimes. Sorry_

OOOOOOOOOO

"He's going to get an _F_."

"He's not going to get an F, not if you _listen_ to me."

"I _am_ listening, but you're not paying attention to what the note says." Tony brandished the paper at Strange, waving it so hard that even if the doctor wanted to read it he wouldn't have been able to. "He's supposed to _show_ the work."

"Writing out the formula isn't the same as showing your work, Tony," Strange told him. "It's inherent in the formula. It would be redundant to show the work in something that already knows what the work is in this case."

"No. If all he does is put the formula name, or the equation, he's not showing the work and like I said, he's going to fail the assignment."

"He's _not_. The teacher's note doesn't mention the formulas specifically. Writing each one out individually would add so much extra time to the assignment that he'd be up all night finishing. No teacher in his right mind would do that to a student – or even _expect_ that of a student."

"You obviously haven't been in a class in a very long time."

"And you have?"

"I have-"

"Hey, guys…?"

They both looked over at Peter, who had been sitting on the bed, the table rolled over his lap and a stack of homework on it watching the two men argue for the last half an hour about his homework assignment.

"Peter," Tony said, looking a little impatient and a lot agitated. "We're discussing something here. Give me a minute, okay?" He waved the paper at Strange one more. "You have to do what the teacher wants, even if it's ridiculous. Why? Because he's the one that-"

"It's _not_ what the teacher wants, though," Strange interrupted, looking just as annoyed. "You're making _extra work_."

Peter sighed, and looked back down at his homework, shaking his head with bemusement. He had done five laps in the shallow end of the pool, with Natasha walking beside him to keep him company. She had also reminded him that _swimming_ was even better exercise and that Clint was available for lessons and it wouldn't be any trouble. He had mentioned swimming lessons during their poker game, as well, and Peter wondered idly why they were all so concerned about him not being able to swim.

Once he was done in the pool, May and Stark were there to support him on the walk back to his room. He thought maybe he didn't have to lean on them quite as much this time as he had before, and that made him feel pretty good. Tony had excused himself, saying he needed to discuss a project of some kind with Strange. He reminded Peter to eat a big meal – and offered to have something sent in for him. May had stayed with him, keeping him company while he ate. She also apologized, but told him that she was going to have to go back to the city the next day to finish out her work-week.

Peter understood, of course, and was quick to reassure her that he was really feeling okay, and while he liked having her right there with him, he knew she had other things she needed to do and he would be fine. He had a lot of people watching over him at the moment. He'd smiled, though, when she asked him why everyone looked so beat up, and had made a comment about how competitive the Monopoly games were.

Doctor Strange and Tony Stark had returned only an hour or so later, and May excused herself to get some sleep, suggesting that if he wasn't tired, maybe he could start on the mountain of homework she'd brought him. He _wasn't_ tired, and didn't really have anything else to do so he'd agreed. Tony had no intention of leaving just then, and had volunteered to help Peter with his homework in case he ran into something that he didn't understand, and Strange had stuck around – mostly out of curiosity.

Peter had no more than read the first note from his science teacher before Stark had asked him for clarification about what the teacher had meant by showing his work - which had led to a clash between two brilliant men who were certain they were right. And far too stubborn to allow the other to prove him wrong.

"I got this, guys…"

They didn't hear him over their discussion, and Peter picked up his math book, shaking his head. He wondered what his teacher – or any of his friends – would think if he told them about _Ironman_ arguing with a brain surgeon turned wizard about what constituted showing your work. They'd probably look for a padded room for him.

He had to admit, though, only to _himself_ of course, that he was glad both of them were there.


	40. Chapter 41

_"Are you going to sleep all day?"_

Peter muttered something and rolled away from the voice that was softly whispering in his ear.

A hand rested on his shoulder, giving him a little shake.

"Peter? Wake up."

"I'm _sick_ ," he mumbled, sleepily. "I can't go to school today."

The chuckle was feminine and obviously amused.

"Wake up so I can get a proper goodbye."

That woke him up and he opened his eyes and rolled over again. May was up, obviously for some time, since she was dressed and looked much more alert than he felt.

"You're leaving?"

She nodded, brushing her fingers against his cheek.

"I told you that last night, remember?"

He frowned, but decided that he must have been told.

"Yeah."

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah."

"Sure?"

"Yeah. Just asleep is all."

She gave him a searching look, but he didn't seem to be in any distress and she'd seen him sleepy before.

"Did you get your homework done?"

"Not all of it."

Pretty much _none_ of it was more the case, really, but he didn't say that. He'd try again today – maybe if Mr. Stark and Dr. Strange were busy somewhere else. They had finally ended up having Friday locate his science teacher's number and calling him for clarification of the definition of show your work, and Tony had been preening the rest of the night. Peter didn't even want to think of what kind of reception he was going to get from Mr. Stuber when he returned to class.

"I'll be back tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay. Drive safe."

She leaned over and kissed his cheek, and he closed his eyes. May didn't remind him that she hadn't driven out and wouldn't be driving home. Instead she smiled at Tony, who was walking into the room as she was walking out the door and tapped his shoulder.

"Tag. You're it."

He turned and watched her leave, and shrugged, uncertainly, and walked over to the bed.

"Good morning!"

Peter just pulled the blanket up over his head in reply.

"Hey, Peter? Wake up."

"I'm sleepy."

"I can tell," Stark said, leaning over and taking the end of the blanket and pulling it off the boy. "But it's time to wake up. You can sleep later, I promise."

He didn't even try to open his eyes.

"No."

Tony frowned.

" _Seriously_?"

He knew Peter had slept through the night, and figured that he'd be ready for some time on his feet for a while. He hadn't counted on the fact that Peter's body was more than willing to grab all the sleep it could now that he was free of the nightmares and the delusions and Peter was just teenager enough to be stubborn about it now that he wasn't so miserable.

But Tony could be pretty stubborn when he wanted to be, also. He shook the boy's shoulder.

"Hey."

Peter turned his face into the pillow and mumbled something that sounded like go away, but honestly could have been anything.

Stark shook his shoulder again. And received the same response. He scowled.

"Get out of bed or I'll have you portalled into the pool naked."

 _That_ woke Peter up. He turned his head, looking up at Stark uncertainly.

"You wouldn't do that."

"Try me?"

The boy frowned, his eyes sleep muddled but not troubled or afraid as they had been during those long days that he'd been so sick. Now he was just tired. Tony was fine with letting him sleep – after he did his rehab and had something to eat. He met Stark's candid gaze for a long moment, and decided that he didn't want to test that threat. Instead, he sighed, and rolled over and sat up, his head in his hands and his elbows on his knees.

Tony put a hand on his shoulder.

"Don't look so miserable," Tony told him. "Today is moving day."

"What?"

"I didn't tell you last night?"

"Tell me what?"

"Huh. I thought I did."

"Tell me what?" Peter repeated, now looking at Stark curiously.

"I'll tell you later."

"You could tell me now."

"Nope. It'll wait. Let's get you dressed. Stephen wants you to walk to the pool today – to check your progress."

Besides, it was really easy to get used to the quick transportation that the doctor was capable of, and Stark had pointed out that if the boy looked too tired they could always limit the time in the pool a little. He was still being very cautious with Peter's recovery, but he had to admit that Strange had been right about getting him on his feet and letting him work out the fatigue with exercise. Not that he would admit it to him, of course.

Since he was clearly not going to be allowed to go back to sleep – and Tony was obviously not going to tell him what _moving day_ meant – Peter just sighed and reached for his shoes. He'd left the shorts in a locker in the locker room, so at least he wouldn't have to change yet.

"Are you awake, now?"

"Yes."

"Good. Let's go."

OOOOOOOOOOO

The water didn't feel warm. In fact, it was a downright cold. Or maybe he was too sleepy to warm up. Either way, Peter shivered when he lowered himself into the shallow end of the pool, and held his arms close to his body rather than clutch the edge like he normally did.

Stark noticed, immediately, of course. He didn't miss a lot when it came to the boy, after all.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah."

"Dunk your head, it'll wake you up."

Peter shook his head and started for the other side of the pool, shivering as he went, unaware that Tony was watching him carefully for any signs that he'd worn himself out on the walk to the pool. He looked a little miserable, but there hadn't been any shaking or wobbly legs when he'd exited the locker room and now that he was in the water, he had the side of the pool to lean on instead of Tony.

Strange was suddenly standing next to him.

"How's he doing?"

"He's sleepy. I had to threaten to have you drop in the pool naked to get him out of bed."

The doctor smiled.

"I imagine _that_ went over well."

"Oh, he wasn't happy."

"That's good. It means he's getting better."

"The sleepiness?"

"Yes. We'll keep him on his feet as much as possible so that when he sleeps, it's real rest and not the jumbled mess he's been getting."

"No dreams last night," Stark reported.

"Good. Let's keep him on this schedule for the next week or so."

"You do good work, doctor."

Strange smirked.

"Wait until you see my bill."

"I'm _paying_ you?"

"Do you have any idea what the going rate for an on call 24-hour brain surgeon is? You couldn't _afford_ to pay me."

Tony smiled, but he was serious when he spoke, next.

"I owe you one."

"I might take you up on that someday."

"Good."

They were silent as they watched the boy turn around and head back toward them, still shivering but not looking quite as miserable as he started waking up a little more.

"You're moving him today?"

"This morning," Stark confirmed.

"It'll be good for him to have a window. That med room is a little gloomy."

"We were more than happy there wasn't a window. _You_ weren't the one he was tossing around."

"Good point."

OOOOOOOOOO

Breakfast was in the commissary, and Peter was awake enough now to breathe deeply when the three of them entered the room. The aroma of pancakes, eggs and bacon permeated the air, and there were several tables, most of them filled with people who were all chatting as they made their way through their meal.

Tony knew Peter hadn't been in this room before and he pointed out the buffet where the cooks had a dizzying array of breakfast foods. Steve and Natasha waved them over when they'd loaded up their trays, and both smiled at Peter, glad to see him on his feet and looking rather alert.

"Good morning," Steve said as they all three sat down, Natasha gesturing to the spot next to her Peter would sit beside her.

"Hey, neighbor."

Peter hesitated, confused by the greeting, but had to smile when she smiled at him so cheerfully. He didn't know why she liked him, but he could tell it was sincere and he found her to be good company. And he was honest enough to admit that it was also very flattering to have a beautiful woman willing to pretend to flirt with you, even though he knew that was all it was. He was okay with that, too. Beautiful or not, she was way too old for him. But he did have a quick flash of what kind of scene he'd make taking her to Prom or Homecoming.

She noticed the confusion. Natasha could read pretty much anyone like an open book and she didn't miss much. She looked at Stark.

"You didn't tell him?"

"I thought I did. But perhaps not."

He'd spent a lot of time in discussion about showing your work, after all.

"Tell me what?" Peter asked, directly to Natasha since he knew Stark would enjoy keeping the secret now that he knew Peter didn't know.

"They're moving you into permanent quarters today."

"I can't live here."

"Not _that_ permanent," Stark told him, taking a sip of his coffee. "Although you _could_ live here if you wanted to – but the commute to school would be a pain in the ass." And it was hard to be your friendly neighborhood Spiderman if you lived a hundred miles from the neighborhood. "They're yours, though, while you're convalescing and whenever you're here at the facility for visits."

"Even better," Natasha said, putting a hand on his shoulder and giving him a little shake. "They're right beside mine."


	41. Chapter 42

"Wow. This is for _me_?"

Tony smiled and put his arm around Peter's shoulders, affectionately.

"No one wanted to room with you, so yes, all for you."

Natasha chuckled and walked around the two so she could enter Peter's quarters and look around. She had volunteered to walk with him to his room with Stark – if for no other reason than he might need the support on both sides, but he'd made it. Now he was too overwhelmed to feel at all tired, even though his legs were screaming at him to sit down for a while.

"Don't listen to him, Peter. You don't _want_ to room with anyone, trust me."

It wasn't simply a room with a bed as Peter had expected. With Stark's arm still around him, he walked into the main room, which was more like a living room. There was a sofa, a coffee table and a huge flat screen TV on the wall. Under it was a shelf with a gaming system and a stack of games that would probably keep him occupied for hours – or even days, truth be told.

"Wow."

He couldn't think of anything else to say, really. One door led off to a bathroom that had a Jacuzzi tub and a separate shower, and the other went to a bedroom, complete with a big bed, a nightstand, a closet that turned out to also hold a dresser and against the far wall was yet another wall mounted flat screen TV. There was also a large window in his bedroom that gave him a great view of the surrounding woods and a large field that at the moment was empty, but Peter decided was probably used for all kinds of training, or running.

"I wanted you to be comfortable," Tony told him, letting him go and sitting down on the sofa, which also reclined on one end. He was clearly enjoying Peter's reaction to the rooms. "I was going to put a fridge in here, but then I figured we'd never see you, so I nixed that idea. We didn't want it to be _too_ comfortable."

"Are yours like this?" he asked Natasha, who had picked up a framed photo from the coffee table. It was a replica of one that was in Peter's room at home. A selfie he'd taken with Ned and the Lego Deathstar the two had built. There was also a picture of him and May that they'd taken at the park. Peter knew it wasn't the original, since this one was a little bigger. He thought it was a nice touch for Stark to think of doing something like that.

"Mine are nicer," she replied. "But I've been here longer. I got first pick when the new place was built. You can come visit and see for yourself, sometime."

"If you think hers are nice, you should see _mine_ ," Tony told him. "Of course, I _built_ the place so it's only fair."

"Yeah."

"So, since you have nothing here to move, it's only called moving day because we're moving _you_ ," Stark said, standing up, and slapping his back. "May said she'd bring some clothes for you to keep here, and we'll make sure you don't lack for entertainment."

"I won't."

"Get settled, and take a nap. Then come find me. I'll be in the lounge."

Since Peter only knew how to find the lounge from his old room he wasn't sure where to even start looking for it, but he figured if nothing else he could always stop someone in the hallway and ask.

"Okay."

"And don't be afraid to look around," Natasha said. "I'm next door, as you know, and Steve is next to me on the other side. We're not always _here_ , but when it's slow and we are, you can always come say hi."

She didn't mention that she might not be there at all just then if not for the fact that he'd needed to be watched when he'd been delirious. She wouldn't, either. It wasn't something he needed to know, really.

"I will. Thanks."

She smiled and left, and Tony looked around a moment before looking at him.

"You good?"

"Yeah. Thank you. I mean, for _everything_ , not just for the room."

Stark's expression was unreadable, but he nodded.

"You're welcome. Not just for the room, I mean, but you're welcome _here_. Okay?"

Peter nodded, hesitating, but Tony didn't. He pulled the boy into a hug and held him close. Peter hugged him back, feeling just a little gooey inside at the gesture. It didn't last long, but it was enough, really. Tony let him go, but he smiled, and patted his pockets, obviously looking for something.

"Oh," he said. "And you're going to need _this_."

He pulled an object out of his pocket and handed it to Peter, who frowned.

"A _watch_?"

"Yes. And a _communication_ device. Romanoff and the others wear earbuds for the most part, but that would be fairly conspicuous on you. A watch won't. Put it on and don't ever take it off."

Peter grinned, and quickly put the watch on.

"Thanks."

"Again, you're _welcome_. I'll show you how to use it later, unless you figure it out on your own." Which he figured Peter was smart enough to do. "Now get acquainted with your room and get some sleep. I want you up and running amok as soon as possible. But not _too_ soon."

"Okay."

"I'll see you in the lounge. Call me if you need anything."

Stark left and Peter looked around the quarters again, and then at the watch. He didn't think he'd ever stop smiling. He didn't assume that the quarters and the watch made him an _Avenger_ , really, but he felt warm acceptance and that was as close as he figured he'd get for a while at least. He flopped down on the sofa, discovered the remote control and turned on the TV, not at all tired, now.

OOOOOOOOO

Strange and Wong both looked up when Tony appeared at the door of the workroom. They had a small stack of books with them, brought from the Sanctum for reference, and were obviously working on how they wanted to approach their plan for dealing with Loki.

"Did you get him settled?" Strange asked.

'Yes. He's suitably impressed with his new quarters."

"As you hoped he would be."

"I want him to be comfortable whenever he's here."

"From what I saw of them, they _look_ fairly comfortable."

Tony looked at Wong, who he had yet to meet. After breakfast Strange had excused himself to take care of getting the ball rolling. Which had, of course, included bringing backup to start working on the protections they were going to put on the room they planned to use.

"I am Wong."

Tony held out his hand.

"Tony Stark."

"It is my pleasure to meet you, Mr. Stark."

"Call me Tony." He looked around the room, which had been stripped of all furniture for the time being. "Is it going to glow in here or anything?"

"Not likely," Wong answered. "I would like to see the _boy's_ room, as well."

"Oh?"

Strange nodded.

"Since Loki's so interested in him, we thought it wouldn't hurt to put some protection on that room as well, just for the duration of the conversation we have with him."

"You think there's any danger to Peter?"

"No."

"But better safe than sorry."

"Always."


	42. Chapter 43

Peter woke up slowly, looking around in confusion for only a moment before he remembered that he wasn't in the med room anymore. He had fallen asleep on the couch in his quarters, while he'd still been trying to find something interesting on TV to watch. He frowned, though, because he hadn't turned the TV off, and now it wasn't on, and he knew he hadn't pulled the comforter from his bed to cover himself. Clearly someone had been in to check on him and had taken care of both.

He yawned, surprised by how good he felt, and wondered what time it was. Then remembered that he now had a watch, and checked the time. And swore softly. It was after 8 o'clock. He'd slept most of the day. No wonder he was a little stiff, but definitely felt rested.

He got up, walked around the rooms once more, stretching, and looked out the window. The sun was starting to set, but it was almost entirely hidden by a heavy cloud cover. He could still see the field and the trees outside, and now there were several people running around, all dressed in uniform, so he assumed it was the Army or something, doing PT, even in the rain. They looked as miserable as he would expect someone to look who was running in the rain.

He wondered if Mr. Stark was still waiting for him in the lounge and headed for the door, also wondering if he'd be able to find the place.

After ten minutes of aimless wandering, he had that answer. The place was a maze of corridors and he was pretty sure he was lost. He'd gone down a flight of stairs, and then a couple more halls, and then down one more flight of stairs before running into a dead end that held a lab of some sort. A deserted lab. He went by several doors that were closed and didn't open them since he didn't know if they were other quarters, he saw a couple rooms that looked like they may have been conference or meeting rooms, but never found the lounge. Even worse, apparently there weren't a lot of people around at this time of evening, because he didn't find anyone to stop to ask for directions.

Peter looked down at his watch, wondering how ridiculous it'd be for him to try his new communications device to admit to Mr. Stark – or whoever answered – that he had managed to get himself lost.

He sighed, and pushed a button. It brought up a stopwatch, which wasn't going to do him any good. Wishing that he'd spent less time looking for something to watch on TV and more time learning how to use the watch, he pushed another button, but that just brought the time back. Peter sighed, and pushed another button, thinking that maybe the buttons should have labeled with helpful notations. Like com or stpwtch or something.

"Hey, Peter."

He looked up, surprised and relieved to see Clint had just come around a corner.

"Hey."

"Are you okay?"

Peter nodded, feeling a little foolish.

"Yeah. I'm just… trying to find the lounge. Mr. Stark told me to meet him there, but I'm turned around."

Clint smiled, but it wasn't a mocking expression, Peter could tell. More understanding, than anything.

"It's easy to get lost in this place. Come on, I'll walk with you."

"Thanks."

Clint slowed his initial pace to let the boy keep up with him, and he was watching him surreptitiously to see if he might need some support. He was slow, but seemed steady enough.

"They put you in your new rooms?"

"Yeah."

"How are they?"

"Amazing."

"Yeah, they do everything big around here. You'll see. Stark doesn't do _subtle_ , I've noticed."

Peter nodded, and concentrated on watching his step as they walked up a staircase he was certain he'd already gone down once before.

"Why do they call you Hawkeye?" he asked when they reached the top, remembering a comment Clint had made at the poker game.

"Because I see everything around me," came the ready answer. "Not a lot gets by me."

"What do _you_ do here? Or is it a secret?"

Clint shook his head.

"No secrets. I'm a pilot, and used to be a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, and I'm an archer."

"Like with a bow and arrow?"

"Right."

"Really?"

"Yes. Sometimes stealth is needed. A gun – even with a _silencer_ – still makes a noise that can be heard. A bow is silent, and still as deadly. Especially with some of the arrows _I_ shoot."

" _Wow_."

"I'll give you a demonstration someday."

"Okay."

Since he had him alone, he figured he might as well bring up something else.

"I'm also available tomorrow morning to teach you how to swim."

Peter almost stumbled, surprised by the change of topic. Clint was quick to put a hand under his elbow to make sure he was steady.

"What?"

"Nat wants me to teach you how to swim. She's mentioned it to me a couple of times, and I _know_ she brought it up with you. She doesn't like that _you_ don't know how."

"Why?"

He shrugged.

"Who knows? Maybe she's worried you'll find the pool and fall in some day. All I know is that I owe her some favors and this is one that she wants to call in. From what I understand, _you_ owe her a future favor as well, from your card game. She'll probably call that chit in, you know?"

"You think so?"

Clint smiled.

"She usually gets what she wants. One way or the other."

"I don't know…" He didn't want to let on that the whole idea made him nervous, but it definitely did.

Barton wasn't fooled for a minute, but he wasn't going to give up, either.

"I'll tell you what. You let me teach you to swim, to get Nat off my back, and I'll take you for a ride in the Quinjet."

"The what?"

Clint led him to a window and in the gloomy dusk they could both see the jet that was parked on its landing pad.

"The Quinjet. It's fast. Great ride." He looked at Peter. "How are you with heights?"

"I'm okay."

"No sickness from fast turns or anything like that?"

Peter smiled, and shook his head.

"No. Never."

"Then _I'll_ take you for a ride – and _you_ let me teach you to swim."

"Okay."

"Good. I'll be by for you at six."

" _AM_?"

Another smile.

"We'll have the pool to ourselves that time of day. It won't take long to teach you the fundamentals, but you might not want much of an audience."

"Thanks."

They turned another corner and Peter finally recognized the area. One more turn and another corridor and they were at the entrance to the lounge. There were several people here, but the room was large enough that it didn't seem crowded. Sitting at one of the tables with Natasha and Bruce was Tony, who looked over at them as they entered.

"Look who I found," Clint said by way of greeting as the two of then walked over to the table.

Natasha and Banner both smiled, but Tony was frowning. He had checked in on Peter earlier, when he hadn't come to meet up, and found him asleep on the couch in his quarters. Tony had turned off the TV and covered him with a blanket to ward off any chill, and had debated waking him to make sure he was alright, but didn't want to interrupt the nap.

"Are you okay?"

Peter nodded.

"I got lost," he admitted. "Luckily Clint found me."

"It's easy to get lost in this place," Banner said, echoing Clint without realizing it. "They should have signs on the walls, or arrows leading to the important places."

"It's better to keep it this way," Natasha said as Peter sat down between her and Tony and Clint took the spot between her and Bruce. "If someone got in who didn't belong, I'd rather they had trouble finding the command center."

Peter hadn't thought about it that way, and he could see from Bruce's reaction that _he_ hadn't, either, but Clint and Natasha clearly had the same line of thinking when it came to defense. Since he now knew that Clint was an agent as well as an Avenger, and he was sure Natasha was a _lot_ more dangerous than she led on around him thanks to Stark's comment about her skillset, he supposed that it made a lot of sense. At least to them.

"Are you rested?" Tony asked, changing the subject.

"Yeah."

"And _hungry_ , I bet," Natasha said. "You slept right through lunch."

"Starving."

"Let's skip the water therapy tonight," Tony told him. "If you walked here from your rooms, then that should count for something. I'd rather you had something to eat. Then we'll see how you feel. Okay?"

"Yeah."


	43. Chapter 44

"Time to get up, Peter."

Stark waited about thirty seconds and then knocked on the door to the boy's quarters again, and waited, his ear to the door listening for signs of life on the other side. He didn't hear anything.

"Peter?"

He waited another long minute, but then tried the door. They all locked from the inside, of course, but none of them were designed to be locked after the occupant left them. It opened, and Stark poked his head into the room.

"Peter?"

The living area was deserted. The TV was off, but there was a stack of homework sitting on the coffee table. Tony picked up the paper on top, curiously, and noticed that it was completed. He set it down, looking around, but the boy wasn't responding to his call. He walked into the bedroom and saw that the bed was messily made, as if a teenager had made an attempt to straighten it up after sleeping in it. A look into the open bathroom door showed it was empty as well.

Feeling the first stirring of concern, Stark went to the window, looking outside, although he couldn't imagine that the boy had any reason to go out into the rainy morning. They had stayed up rather late the night before, sitting in the lounge after their dinner was done. He'd given Peter a quick tutorial on how to use his new watch, and Natasha and Clint had allowed him to practice with them, until he was fairly proficient with sending and receiving communications with them. Then they had excused themselves, saying they needed to get up early, and Peter and Stark had gone to the dart board and the boy had proven that even though he wasn't good at cards, there was nothing wrong with his hand-eye coordination and he had trounced Stark.

After that, Tony had shown him the direct way back to his rooms, to avoid getting lost in the future, and had turned him loose, figuring he'd be ready for bed. Clearly he'd decided to work on his homework, instead, and Stark felt a little guilty that he hadn't helped him with it when he had promised him that he would. But he had other things to worry about just then.

He activated the Ironman suit.

"Friday, locate Peter."

There was a moment's hesitation and then a display of the Avenger's facility came into his HUD, with a red dot blinking at him. A wave of relief washed through him, since the boy wasn't in the woods like last time he'd gone missing. He was at the pool. Tony released the suit and turned and left the room, the relief that Peter was safe warring with annoyance that he'd already headed to the pool without him and for all Stark knew he was sprawled in the locker room after taking a nasty fall.

OOOOOOOOOO

The moment he walked into the pool area the annoyance was extinguished immediately and replaced with panic. Peter was in the middle of the pool, arms and legs flailing wildly. Tony went from a fast walk into a run, pulling his jacket off as he ran from the entrance to the edge of the pool, his eyes only on the boy who was obviously in distress.

A hand grabbed him by the back of his shirt, pulling him off his feet on the wet deck. As he went down, he twisted, furious that someone had stopped him. His imagination threw a hundred different scenarios at him, all of them featuring Loki trying to drown Peter, or worse.

" _Stop_!" Hissed Natasha, still holding his shirt in an implacable grip, seeming to have no trouble keeping him from rescuing Peter.

"Are you out of your mind?" Stark barked, regaining his feet and turning back to the melee in the water. "Let me _go_!"

" _Look_ ," she ordered him, shaking him a little. "It's not what you think."

He then realized that Peter wasn't the only one in the water. Treading water on the other side – between the boy and the very deep end of the pool – was Clint Barton, who was holding onto a floating rescue tube and watching Peter intently. The splashing water had hidden him, but now that he wasn't in a single minded panic, Tony could clearly see that Barton was monitoring Peter's progress carefully.

Tony stopped struggling, flabbergasted.

"What the hell is he doing?"

"Swimming," Natasha answered. "Sort of."

"And you didn't think to tell me?"

"I didn't think I _needed_ to."

Her calm demeanor was both reassuring and annoying, but he had to admit that she was right. She _didn't_ need to tell him. He would have preferred that she _had_ , though. He looked back at Peter, who was so focused on not sinking that he hadn't noticed Stark's arrival, or the scuffle between him and Natasha.

"How is he doing?"

"He's in water over his head." She was obviously impressed, and not hiding it. "Once Clint explained that it didn't matter how deep the water was since he was only using the top foot or so, he managed to loosen up enough to not sink every time Clint let him go."

By then Peter had made it to the far side of the pool and had grabbed onto the edge and turned to look at Barton, who was grinning at his pupil's success. Both of them noticed Tony, then, and Peter risked letting go with one hand long enough to wave. A wave that Stark returned, along with a forced smile.

"Relax, Tony," Natasha told him. "He's fine."

He _didn't_ relax, though. He _couldn't_. Instead he stood beside her and watched as Barton gestured for Peter to make his way back to the other side. Arms and legs seemed to be everywhere as Peter let go, holding his head out of the water but propelling himself toward the other edge with three times as many strokes as he might normally have needed. Stark couldn't fault how closely Clint hovered beside the boy, but he didn't actually breathe again until Peter reached the other side safely.

Clint said something Tony and Natasha couldn't hear, and the boy nodded, and pulled himself out of the pool. Barton waited until he was sure he was out and steady and then pulled himself out as well.

"Don't you _dare_ scold him," Natasha whispered to Tony as the two walked over to them. "It took a lot of guts for him to go in the deep end."

Stark knew that. He'd seen the fear whenever Peter had gone into the water, even the shallow side. But Tony had taken a scare, and it wasn't something that he would get over immediately.

Natasha had picked up a couple of towels that were draped over a bar, and handed one to each of them.

"Well? How did it feel?" she asked Peter. "You looked like you were getting the hang of things."

"Yeah. Kind of."

"He's a natural," Clint told him, reaching over and ruffling Peter's hair. "But you don't try it again unless two of us are with you. Right?"

"Yeah."

Peter looked at Stark, who had to force another smile and probably didn't do a good job of making it seem sincere.

"You okay?"

"Yeah. Are you?"

"I'm fine. I just got worried when I didn't find you in your quarters."

"Oh."

"Let's get dressed," Barton told Peter, clapping him on the back. "Then Nat can buy us breakfast."

Natasha turned to Stark.

"Breakfast?"

He nodded.

"We'll go save a table."

Barton and Peter headed for the locker room, and Natasha handed Stark his jacket.

"You okay?"

"No."

She put her hand on his back, guiding him toward the exit, well aware of the scare he'd just had.

"I thought he'd tell you. I'm sorry."

"He didn't."

Obviously.

"Clint was right there."

"I know."

He saw.

"You need to get over this, Tony," Natasha told him as they walked. "He's going to do all sorts of things that make you want to put him in a safe place and hide him from the world. But you _can't_. Even if he let you, it would destroy him."

"I know. But it's not that easy."

She smiled, and this time her hand on his back was to comfort him as much as she could.

"I know." She decided to change the subject. "So tell me about the Loki plan."

"Strange and Wong have the room ready. Now it's just a matter of timing."

"Timing for what?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "But when it happens I want you with Peter – just in case. Okay?"

"Of course."

"His aunt is coming this evening, so it'll have to be before then."

"I thought she was planning on being here earlier."

"She's going to have car trouble."

"That's convenient."

"Yeah."

"Nothing too serious, though, right?"

"Of course not. Just enough that she'll need Happy to get her – and then we can make sure she doesn't get here until it's over."

"How are you going to keep _Peter_ out of the way?" she asked as they entered the commissary and headed for the buffet.

"We just need a distraction. I'll think of something."

"Let me know if I can help."


	44. Chapter 45

"Think he's mad at me?"

"Why do you ask?" Clint asked after they'd showered and Peter had changed into a pair of sweats and a t-shirt. Both were baggy, because they actually were borrowed from Barton. Peter was well and truly out of clothes and figured he was lucky that Clint had extras that he had been willing to loan him.

"He _looked_ mad."

"Did you tell him about this morning?"

Peter shook his head.

"I wanted to surprise him."

Barton snorted, amused. He hadn't missed Stark's entrance into the pool, or the way Natasha had taken him down when he'd clearly thought Peter was drowning. He knew Peter hadn't seen it, though.

"I'd say you succeeded."

Peter sighed. Everything he tried seemed to backfire on him. He'd thought it would please Mr. Stark if he wasn't so nervous every time he went near the water, and maybe he'd look less worried during the rehab. But he'd looked angry, not impressed.

"You scared him, Peter," Barton told him, giving him a little shake with the hand he had on his shoulder. "No one likes to be scared. Don't worry. He'll get over it."

"I didn't mean to."

"I know." Clint gave him another shake, and grinned at the boy. "You did it, though. Good job."

"It's not really that hard, is it?"

"Nope. It just takes some confidence – and a little practice."

"Thanks for teaching me."

They turned the last corner to reach the commissary and Peter saw Dr. Strange walking toward them from the other direction, clearly heading the same place. He was with another man – one Peter hadn't seen before – but there were a lot of people Peter didn't know here.

"Coming from the pool?" Strange asked, stopping at the commissary door to allow Barton and Peter a chance to catch up to them.

"Yeah."

"From a _swimming lesson_ ," Clint corrected with a smile.

An eyebrow shot up, and Strange nodded, approvingly.

"Really? Good for you, Peter."

"Thanks."

Strange gestured to the man who was standing beside him.

"This is Wong."

The man held his hand out to Peter and then to Clint.

"My pleasure."

"Are you a doctor, too, Mr. Wong?" Peter asked.

"Just _Wong_ , please. No. I am a librarian."

Mostly.

They turned their attention to breakfast, then, going to the buffet and filling up plates before joining Tony and Romanoff at the table they were saving. Not that it was really needed, Peter saw. There weren't a lot of people in the room. He wondered if it was too early, or if there just weren't as many there during the weekend.

"You look good, Peter," Stephen said when they'd sat down. "The pool was a good idea."

The boy risked a glance at Tony, who had carefully schooled his features when they'd sat down, and then nodded.

"Yeah. I feel better."

"I don't want you overtaxing yourself, though. A little bit a day, okay? Otherwise you're going to slow your recovery."

"Okay."

Natasha had been watching Wong, who had been studying Peter, but she put her hand on the boy's arm.

"We'll keep him out of mischief," she told the doctor.

"We're doing a great job so far," Tony muttered, taking a sip of his coffee.

Peter looked down, crushed, and concentrated on his breakfast. He missed the scowl Natasha threw Tony's direction, and the bland look he gave her in return. Strange didn't have a clue what Stark was annoyed about, but it was clearly bugging him, and obviously about the boy.

"What are your plans for today, Tony?" he asked, deciding to ignore the tension between Peter and Stark for the moment. They had other, bigger, things to worry about just then.

"Nothing much. Pepper is in the city so I thought I'd do a little work in my office later. Are you sticking around?"

"Wong is interested in the facility, so I thought we'd explore it, if that is alright with you?"

"Of course."

It would give them a good reason to be anywhere they wanted to be, and a chance to familiarize themselves with the complex before their date with Loki.

"Peter?"

The boy looked up at Strange.

"Yes?"

"Nothing too strenuous today, all right?"

"Yeah." He looked back at his breakfast and decided that he wasn't hungry, after all. He couldn't bear the silent displeasure that was practically emanating from Stark and he knew it was directed at him. He could feel it. Instead, he stood up. "I think I'll take a walk."

Natasha frowned.

"Want company?"

" _No_. No… I'm okay. I'll… I won't go far."

They all watched as he left the room.

"He is not well," Wong said.

"No," Strange agreed. "Not yet."

"Maybe if _someone_ hadn't been such an _ass_ …" Natasha grumbled.

"He shouldn't have _risked_ himself," Tony snapped.

"He _didn't_."

Strange held a hand up to stop what was bound to be an amazing argument.

"We have other things to discuss while he's gone. Is there some way you can call together everyone who is going to be involved in the afternoon's adventure so we can finalize the plan?"

Stark looked over at Natasha, clearly forcing down his irritation. Strange was right. And he knew Natasha was, also.

"Call in Steve and Bruce, will you. Please?"

She nodded, accepting the silent apology and offering one of her own in a single glance. Then she tapped the ear bug she was wearing, waiting for a response from the others. After they ate, she'd go find Peter – or maybe make Tony do it.

OOOOOOOOOOO

Peter didn't have any particular destination in mind when he'd left the commissary, he just wanted to be anywhere but where he was at that moment. He thought about going to his room, but there wasn't anything there for him. He'd just be sitting on the couch staring at the TV, or worse, the walls. He didn't want to play video games, he didn't want to watch TV. He really didn't know what he wanted to do. He just needed to be alone.

Luckily there were no people in the halls, because he wasn't watching where he was going and almost certainly would have collided with someone. He saw an exit sign and found himself outside. It was raining, but he didn't even notice. His thoughts were so introverted just then, he didn't care that his borrowed t-shirt was almost immediately soaked, and the rain wasn't warm. But it did hide the tears that he couldn't control.

He passed the Quinjet, shaken from his inner turmoil just enough to be more impressed by it close up than he had when he'd seen it through the window, and felt a chill from the water running down his back. He headed for the tree line, deciding that there might be some protection from the rain among the leaves. He could have gone inside – and he knew that he probably _should_ have – but he was upset and didn't want to risk anyone seeing him just then. Instead he moved deeper into the woods, wandering aimlessly for what seemed like forever, looking for someplace to sit that wasn't as soaked as he was and ignoring the fact that his legs were burning and his breath was ragged.

Then he stopped, suddenly, aware that something was off beam. Or different. He didn't know what. The rain was still coming down. The woods were still silent. But there was a change in the air around him. One that only he could feel. Startled out of his reverie by the impact of the sudden feeling of wrongness, he looked around, his skin tingling like it always did when something was going to happen.

"What's the _matter_ , dear boy?" A voice said from behind him.

He whirled, and saw a man standing behind him, leaning against the trunk of a tree, his arms folded over his chest and a sly grin creasing his face. Peter knew the face, and even if he didn't, he definitely knew the voice.


	45. Chapter 46

Peter frowned. The _last_ thing he needed just then was the nightmares he'd already faced come true to life right in front of him. Especially after the morning he'd had. Too upset by the turn his morning had taken, he didn't feel any fear – and didn't realize that the lack of fear was also part of the protection that Strange had placed on him.

"What do _you_ want?"

The smile faded, turning slightly confused, as if the man in front of him had no experience with teenagers. Especially sullen ones. He'd expected fright, really, and was used to having people try to convince him to leave them alone, or give them mercy. He certainly didn't expect a puny boy to be belligerent, and had never dealt with teenage angst before.

"We need to finish our discussion."

"Go away."

Again not the expected response. The confusion turned into a scowl, only for a moment, but it was definitely a scowl.

"Someone has _tampered_ with you, Peter Parker. Or with _me_. I'm not sure. I had to come _find_ you. I don't like that."

"I don't care."

It was a lot easier to face a nightmare when it was standing in the rain with you, water dripping from its long hair and off its somewhat pointed nose. The stranger probably had water in _his_ shoes, too.

"Who blocked you from me, Peter?" The man asked, taking a step toward the boy, intending to intimidate. "Why can't I get into your mind?"

"You _were_ _in_ my mind, remember?"

 _He_ did.

"But no longer. Why?"

"Who _are_ you?" Peter asked, yet again, and not expecting an answer.

"I am Loki, god of Asgard, master of-"

"And I'm _Thor_ ," Peter interrupted, sarcastically. He shook his head and turned away, deciding he'd had enough.

"Don't you turn your back on me," Loki told him. "I am a _god_!"

Peter didn't turn around. He'd had a hard morning, felt miserable, and was amazed that he'd been so frightened of a dream that now seemed so ridiculous.

"Good. Make me an _umbrella_ , will you?"

Sarcasm wasn't really Peter's strong suit, but Tony Stark was a master at it, and Peter had spent plenty of time seeing how it was done. Hurt, and angry – but mostly _hurt_ – he was willing to lash out at the crazy guy in the weird outfit who had come looking for him in the woods.

Loki had had enough. What had started out as amusing to him was suddenly infuriating, and there was nothing he hated more than scorn. With a gesture he sent a force bolt at the boy, who felt it coming even with his back turned and dodged to the right, rolling to avoid the blow. Loki didn't hesitate to throw another, but this time it hit the tree Peter ducked behind instead of the boy, shattering it and peppering him with splinters.

Peter rolled again, looking for another tree to hide behind – or even better, a giant boulder. As fast as he was – and he was a lot faster than Loki expected him to be – the next bolt caught him in mid roll and it threw him backward several feet. It would have sent him further if not for the tree trunk he slammed into. He went down, momentarily stunned, but struggled right back to his feet, instinctively knowing that to stay still was the biggest mistake he could make.

"Hold _still_!" Loki told him, slamming another bolt at him, and immediately following it with an entire tree coming at Peter from the other direction.

The boy managed to avoid the tree, but the blast hit him square in the chest, and slammed him backward once more. Before he regained his feet another blast hit him, and then another, pummeling him every time he started to get back up. He rolled behind a tree, desperate to find some cover that could give him a chance to use his communication watch to call for help, but those senses in his head that warned him screamed at him and he looked up just in time to see the weirdo wave his hand and gesture.

Peter felt himself lifted off his feet and he flew through the air, no webbing to shoot and nothing to grab except trees even if he had some. He slammed into yet another tree trunk going impossibly fast and slumped to the ground. He thought he might have heard some kind of explosion, but when he tried to pick himself up to look another force blast hit him in the chest again and everything went black before he even hit the ground.

OOOOOOOOO

"So if he's a _god_ , how do you intend to hold him?" Steve asked. "We've seen what he can do. And what kind of reinforcements he can field."

Strange shook his head. They'd been having the discussion for the better part of an hour, and he didn't mind, because he wanted to make sure there were no miscommunications.

"We're only going to be dealing with _him_ , and we – "he gestured to himself and to Wong – "have researched the best spell to contain him. If nothing else, we can make…"

Strange trailed off, looking at Wong. The other man had an odd expression on his face, as if he were suddenly distracted.

"He's _here_ ," Wong said, looking around, his hands coming up automatically.

"What?" Tony stood up, glancing at Natasha, who stood as well. "Loki?"

It was Strange who nodded, though, and now they were all on their feet, watching Wong.

"Where is he?" Stark asked.

Wong was concentrating, and didn't answer. Strange closed his eyes, reaching with his own powers.

"I can _feel_ him, but I don't…" He opened his eyes. " _Peter_!"

" _Where_?" Stark snapped, activating his suit. "Friday! Find Peter."

The AI reacted instantly, showing Tony a red blip in the woods behind the facility.

"He's in the woods."

"So is Loki," Strange said. The doctor held one hand out and waved the other and a portal appeared, the terminus showing the woods in question and a lot of rain.

Tony didn't hesitate. The Ironman suit was moving, thrusters propelling him through the portal and into the air, while the others followed, even though none of them were actually armed. Wong went through the portal, but Strange then closed it and simply moved himself to the scene.

The first thing Tony saw was Loki, but Friday was scanning the area even as Ironman landed and shot a repulser blast at the Asgardian, knocking him backwards and into a tree, taking his attention from whatever – or whoever – his present target was. A target that Friday had no trouble identifying, and pointing out that the boy was in trouble. Another repulser blast followed the first one, and then Strange and Wong were both beside Ironman, hands up and power flowing.

Loki turned his attention to the threesome, recognizing them as his biggest threat.

 _"Natasha, get Peter."_

She started toward the fallen boy, but Strange made a gesture and she was suddenly beside the tree Peter was sprawled under. She quickly felt for a pulse, ignoring the fact that he was bloody and battered, and then hefted him into her arms – and promptly found herself back in the Avenger's facility, with the boy still tightly held against her.

She tapped her communicator.

"We're safe."

Tony barely heard her, but Friday relayed the information, and Ironman turned to Strange.

"Take him."

The two men gestured in the same moment, their hands glowing once more, and everyone in the wood vanished, leaving only a handful of battered tree trunks and a pile of splinters.


	46. Chapter 47

The room was white-washed concrete, in the basement and lacking any furniture, any glass and certainly no windows. Wong stood in a corner, his concentration on the form that was floating in the middle of the room, his hands up, and his spell clearly working. Stark stood beside Strange, both men still catching their breath from the quick battle in the woods, and Clint, Steve and Bruce were all ranged behind them, watching Loki carefully, looking for any indication that they were going to have to continue the fight here in the room.

Loki wasn't trying to break the spell that held him so securely, though. He _had_ , initially, when he'd first been transferred to the room, shocked that it had happened so quickly. He wasn't aware that the people on Earth had anyone capable of anything so complex. A _portal_ , yes, and now that he had taken a moment to study those in the room with him, he recognized the man standing beside Tony Stark as the one he and his brother had met in their search for Odin. But he hadn't had any interaction with him other than a quick threat and an even quicker goodbye.

"Do you have him?" Stark asked Strange.

The doctor glanced at Wong, who was the one performing the containing spell, and the other man nodded.

"Yes."

"For how long?"

"As long as we need."

"You'll find I'm _not_ that easy to contain," Loki told them, confidently. "When I'm ready to leave, nothing will hold me. Certainly not petty wizards."

"Try us," Strange challenged.

Loki scowled, and was annoyed enough by the man's confidence that he did just that, clearly trying to move arms that wouldn't budge and legs that were held firm by a force outside of his control. He stopped after just a moment, and would have shrugged if he could have.

"I'm not ready to leave," he told them nonchalantly.

Stephen smirked.

"I'm going to go check on Peter. Keep an eye on him for a minute, will you?"

"I'll do one better."

Since Strange was the one that had transferred the boy and Natasha, he was the only one out of the group that actually knew where they were. There hadn't been time for Tony to ask his AI where they'd gone, after all. He waved his hand and Stark vanished.

"That's a handy trick," Barton noted. "I don't suppose you could bring me my bow?"

Strange smiled, and an instant later there was a clatter as Barton's bow and a quiver of his more specialized arrows appeared, along with a bright shield with a star on it that produced a muted clang when it hit the floor. Steve stepped up and picked up the shield at the same time Clint armed himself.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome." Strange looked at Banner, questioningly, and the other man gave him a slight smile and shook his head.

"I'm good, thanks."

He didn't _need_ a weapon in his hand.

OOOOOOOOOO

Strange had sent Natasha and Peter to his quarters. Which made sense, she decided as she lowered the boy onto the sofa, carefully, trying to keep from hurting him further. She remembered that the doctor had told the group Peter's room was going to have protections placed on it, just in case. It should be the safest place in the building for him just then. As much as she wanted to be in the room that Loki was in – and now she _really_ wanted to be there – she had already promised Stark that she'd be the one to keep an eye on Peter while Loki was anywhere in the area. And now, since she knew was medically trained as part of her skillset, there was no question that this was where she needed to be.

He didn't make a sound when she laid him down. She pulled his shirt up to take a quick look for any open wounds and found a lot of marks that would become bruises – some that already _were_ – and tiny puncture wounds that were from the shattered tree trunk. Nothing so serious that it would even need a band aid. But it was going to be painful.

Romanoff went into his bathroom for a couple of towels and the first aid kit that was hanging on the bathroom wall. A quick stop in his bedroom for a pillow and she came out – just as Tony Stark appeared out of nowhere. For just a moment, before she recognized him, she went into a defensive stance, but he put his hands up and she put hers down. Both of them turned to the boy.

"How is he?" Tony asked, crouching next to the bed, frowning at the blood.

"Looks like he took a hell of a beating," Natasha said, crouching beside him and putting the pillow under the boy's head. Peter was soaked to the skin, the borrowed t-shirt and sweats drenched and covered with mud and splinters of wood. His hair was plastered to his head and his face pale. "Nothing is obviously broken." No bones sticking out of the skin, at any rate. "But there could be something going on internally. We'll want him checked out."

Tony hadn't missed the fact that they were in Peter's rooms any more than Natasha had, and assumed it was for the same reason she had.

"Has he woken up?"

"No."

Of course, they hadn't been there that long.

"I'd rather keep him here, for now."

"Loki's here?"

"Yeah. Do what you can for him, okay? I'll give you a heads up when we're in the clear."

She nodded.

"I can handle things here."

"I know."

He looked down at the boy and shook his head, resting his palm on his cheek, ignoring the blood that was smeared when he did so. Natasha watched silently, knowing Tony needed a moment to prove to himself Peter wasn't hurt more seriously.

"Did you tell him about Loki?"

"No. I got distracted and forgot."

He hadn't really wanted to tell him, at any rate, but it might have been better that he had, looking back on things. Maybe Peter wouldn't have chosen to go into the woods if he'd known. Maybe he'd have been more careful. Maybe, maybe, maybe. Stark hated maybes. He sighed and stood up, wiping his hand on his pants.

"You okay here?"

"Yeah. I'll take care of him."

"I know," he repeated, absently. "Call if you need anything. I'll send a doctor up."

They didn't have full staffing on the weekends, but there was always a medic or two on call. It was a military compound, after all, and things did happen. He left, and Natasha turned her attention back to the boy. Outside the bedroom window she heard a rumble of thunder and the corner of her eye caught a flash of lightning through the open bedroom door. She picked up the scissors from the first aid kit and started to cut Peter's shirt off. This was one shirt Clint probably wouldn't want back by the time she was done with it.


	47. Chapter 48

Stark walked back into the room only a few minutes after leaving Peter and Natasha. The others were almost exactly where he'd left them, only now he saw that they were armed. Everyone glanced over at him and he shook his head, slightly, knowing they wanted to know how Peter was. He didn't have a lot information to give them and didn't want to give it to them in front of Loki if he did. He'd sent a message for a medic to be sent to Peter's room, but without the suit on and with no ear bug, he was as cut off from any updates as the others were. Instead, he walked over to stand beside Strange, who was as casual as if he were trying to decide what he was going to have for lunch and held gods captive all the time.

"What's your interest in Peter Parker?" He asked Loki without preamble.

The Asgardian smirked.

"That's _my_ business."

"Wrong answer."

"Sorry."

He didn't _sound_ sorry, of course.

"What possible interest could you have in a fifteen year old boy?"

"I don't need to explain myself to you. Or to anyone."

Stark sighed, and turned to his left.

"Bruce?"

"Yeah, Tony?"

"I'm going to need the _other_ guy."

Banner frowned.

"Are you _sure_?" he asked. "This is a new shirt..."

Loki's smug façade cracked just a little. Enough for Stark to notice. He forced himself to hide the smirk.

"Yeah, sorry."

"I haven't had a chance to break it in."

"'ll buy you a new one. Hulk doesn't like Loki here even more than _I_ don't like Loki. Maybe he can convince him to-"

"Oh, _fine_ ," Loki interrupted. "The boy doesn't hold any interest for me. At least he _didn't_."

"What do you mean?" Tony asked.

"I didn't even know about him before the nightmares. Why would I?"

"What do the nightmares have to do with anything?"

" _Please_ …" If it wasn't beneath him, he would have rolled his eyes. "Do you know how alluring chaos and confusion are? Add in panic, fear and terror and I just couldn't stay away. And had no reason to."

Strange frowned.

"The god of mischief… that makes a perverted amount of sense."

"I was curious who it was, and what was causing it. Then he became a puzzle I wanted to solve."

"Why would you _attack_ him?" Steve asked, confused. "He didn't do anything to you."

"I might have overreacted to his attitude." Loki admitted. He might have said more, but a movement at the door caused him to turn his head that direction, which made everyone else look that way, too. The god of mischief scowled as Thor walked into the room, looking around with obvious curiosity.

"Do I even _want_ to know what is going on?" he asked, his eyes on Loki, but the question not for his brother to answer.

"What are _you_ doing here?" Tony asked, surprised to see him.

"Recent events have compelled me to keep track of any activities initiated by Loki," Thor told him. "His mental activities cannot be followed, but whenever he exerts any use of power it now glows like a beacon and alerts us that he's most likely up to something. In this case, I felt it and realized where it was coming from and thought I should investigate – in case you needed assistance."

He allowed a slight smile to play across his face as he looked around the room, his gaze stopping at Strange, who nodded a greeting.

"I see you have everything well in hand."

"I don't need a nursemaid," Loki snarled, indignant at being trussed like he was in front of his brother.

"Apparently you do."

Tony took a step closer to Loki.

"Peter Parker is off limits," he told the Asgardian. "For that matter, _Earth_ is off limits."

"Or what?" Loki sneered.

"We could always just keep him in this room," Strange suggested. "The holding spell can become permanent with very little modification."

"I suppose we could use him as a centerpiece," Tony said, shrugging. "Or a piece of yard art?"

"You could make him into a fountain," Barton added. "There are all sorts of interesting places water could come flowing out o-"

"Enough!" Loki interrupted. He hated ridicule and they all knew it. Thor more than any of them. "Release me."

"And if we do?" Strange asked. "What then?"

"I'll leave."

"And you won't return," Stark added.

"I'll do as I please," Loki told him. "But Earth holds no interest to me, now."

It wasn't a promise to stay away, but none of them would have believed him if he'd promised them at any rate. Strange looked over at Wong, and nodded. A moment later, Loki dropped to the floor, released from the spell that was binding him. A gesture from Strange, and the Asgardian was gone.

"Where did you send him?" Thor asked.

"To Asgard," was the ready answer. "By a circuitous route."

Thor snorted, amused, but still a little relieved that Loki had taken no lasting harm. He was also pleased that the Earthlings had held their own and hadn't even needed him to rescue them.

"Did he do any lasting harm?"

"I'm not sure," Stark replied. "He'd better hope not."

"Is there anything I can do?"

Tony shrugged, about to say no, and then suddenly he smiled.

"What are you doing next month?"

OOOOOOOOOOO

The first thing he was aware of was pain. A throbbing pain that seemed to be everywhere, but focused mainly on his chest and belly. He gasped as he woke, and that sent a stabbing ache through his entire body and he couldn't choke down the groan of agony that accompanied it.

"Easy, Peter," Natasha said, holding his head gently still with her palms pressed lightly against his cheeks. "I know it hurts. It'll just be a minute."

He opened his eyes, and saw her looking down at him, concerned. She was leaning over him from the end of the sofa, and someone was slowing peeling all his skin off his ribs.

"I don't feel any swelling that would indicate breaks," a woman's voice he didn't recognize said from somewhere in that area. "We'll wrap his ribs for now, and get an x-ray when we can."

He tried to look down, but Natasha held his head firm.

"Stay still for a minute, okay?" she told him. "We're almost done."

"What happened?" he asked, wincing as his ribs were being pulled out of his chest one by one.

"What do you remember?"

"Some crazy guy in the woods started throwing trees at me."

Natasha smiled, gently, relieved that he hadn't been permanently damaged.

"That's fairly accurate," she conceded. "Hold still."

"Where's Mr. Stark?"

"Dealing with your crazy guy. He'll be by in a while."

"I hurt," he admitted.

"I know. We'll fix that soon."

"I could put him out," the other woman suggested. "It's probably _really_ going to hurt in a minute."

Natasha nodded, but saw the fear in Peter's eyes at that, and leaned over to press her cheek against his.

"Don't worry," she told him. "I'll be right here the entire time."

"Okay."

He felt a wave of exhaustion wash over him and closed his eyes, the darkness returning relentlessly but her contact with him holding fast until he didn't feel anything else.


	48. Chapter 49

_Author's note: I know some of you wanted an epic battle between Loki and the Avengers, but it seemed to me that as powerful as he is (and he really is) it would be better to take him by surprise like they did, and get him out of Dodge as quickly as possible once the point was made. Especially since he surprised them by showing up early. I'm really having fun with this story though, since I've had the opportunity to bring everyone into it. Mostly. Thanks for the reviews and the messages!_

OOOOOOOOOO

"Peter?"

A hand was on his forearm, and he waited for the stab of pain in his head to fade before opening his eyes, the soft voice telling him who was with him before he confirmed it.

"Mr. Stark…"

Tony nodded, letting his arm go.

"Hi."

Peter tried looking around without actually moving, knowing he'd be opening himself up to a new world of pain if he wasn't careful. He was in his bed – the new bed, not the one in the medical room – and was covered with the comforter. He hadn't realized that the bed was one of those that would adjust, but it must have been, because he was almost upright and there wasn't a mountain of pillows behind him propping him up.

"You found me?"

"Yeah."

Stark brushed his palm against Peter's bruised cheek, and the boy winced.

"How? I was pretty well lost…"

"Your watch has a transmitter in it," Tony told him. "Not because you need to be watched," he said. "We _all_ have them. In case of trouble and we need to be found."

"Oh."

He pulled the blanket down, too hot to be covered so warmly. He wasn't wearing a shirt, but had bandages wrapped around him from his armpits to his waist.

"We took some x-rays," Tony said, following his gaze. "Nothing is broken, but you took quite a beating."

"Yeah…"

He hesitated, wondering if Stark was still mad at him.

Tony sighed, more than capable of reading the boy's expression, and knowing their earlier issue needed to be dealt with so they could move forward with the new.

"You should have told me about the pool."

Peter nodded.

"I'm sorry. I wanted to surprise you."

"I know. You scared me."

"Yeah."

"But _I_ should have told you about Loki," Tony said. "You could have been killed."

Peter shrugged, unable to meet his candid look. Then realized what he'd said.

"You mean, that crazy guy really _was_ Loki?"

"Yes."

"Where is he?"

"Gone. But if he comes back, you tell me immediately, okay?"

"Okay."

"I'm sorry I got mad at you."

"I'm sorry, too."

"Good." Tony looked like he wanted to say more, but he didn't. Instead, he changed the subject. "Now, onto other business. Your aunt is on her way in with Ned."

"May?"

"Yes. We don't have any good reason to keep her away, which is why I needed you awake."

"Why?"

"We're going to tell her you fell down the stairs. That'll explain the bruising we can't cover, and the pain you're not going to be able to hide. I'll take blame for it, since it _is_ my fault, technically. The doctor just gave you a shot of a pretty strong painkiller. It's only going to take the edge off for four or five hours, but it will help you convince her you're not as injured as you are, and won't muddle you too much. We'll get you on your feet and to the lounge and put on a bit of a show to keep her from worrying too much. With me so far?"

"Yeah."

"Since Strange is off working on something secretive, Steve and Clint are going to get you dressed and get you to the lounge. I'll meet May and Ned and bring them to you. Put on a good show, if you can, and we'll have you back in bed as soon as possible."

"Okay."

Tony hesitated.

"Are you up for this? We could just tell her the truth…"

Peter shook his head. That was absolutely the last thing he wanted to do.

"No. I'm good. _Really_."

He _was_ , too. He decided that it must be whatever the doctor had given him, because he wasn't feeling much pain at all just then. He sat up a little more, experimenting, but although he really ached, the pain wasn't paralyzing like it had been before.

"It won't be long," Tony promised, getting up and heading for the door. "Strange will tell May you need rest – which is true."

Peter heard a short conversation from the living room, and then Steve and Clint were at his bedroom door, both men looking pleased to see him awake.

"Ready?" Steve asked, walking to the bed. Peter realized that he was carrying a small stack of clothes, which he handed to the boy.

"Yeah."

"I hope _my_ loaners fare better than Clint's did," Steve told him.

"I appreciate it," Peter told him, sincerely.

"Your aunt is supposed to be bringing you clothes, but if she doesn't we'll get you some. It's not like you're a tough size to find."

"How do you feel?" Barton asked.

"Like I got hit by a truck," Peter admitted as he pulled the shirt on, carefully.

"Yeah, Loki's a handful. You did alright, though, all things considered," Steve told him. "It'll be interesting to see what you're capable of, once you're on your feet and healthy."

When he was dressed, the two men took their place on either side of him, ostensibly lending support with his arms over their shoulders. Really, though, they pretty much carried him through the corridors and to the lounge, because he knew his feet barely touched the floor the entire time. Natasha and Banner were both sitting at one of the larger tables, and they smiled to see him on his feet, although his bruised face was now a match for theirs.

"We're supposed to feed you a late lunch and keep you occupied until your aunt gets here," Natasha told him when he had been deposited at the table.

"Poker?" Peter asked, noticing that Banner had a deck of cards in his hands, but he didn't see any M&Ms.

"Even better than _Poker_ ," Steve told him, walking to the bar and reaching over it to grab something from behind it. "We're going to teach you one of the games I grew up with. No one can be bad at it. Not even you."


	49. Chapter 50

It was easy to know exactly when May and Ned were going to arrive. Since _Happy_ was bringing them it was a simple matter of waiting for a signal from him to let Tony know that he'd pulled into the final entrance. Once he received the signal, he walked out to meet them, holding an umbrella against the steady downpour and waiting for the car to stop so he could open the door for May.

"Hello."

She smiled a greeting, always impressed by his willingness to give her time when she knew he had to be incredibly busy. Even better that she wasn't going to get wet, since he was quick to put the umbrella out for her.

"Hello."

"How was the drive?"

"Smooth. Thanks for sending the car. I can't believe someone managed to steal all four tires without _anyone_ seeing it happen."

Stark shook his head.

"It's a _crazy_ world we live in, isn't it?" He turned to the boy who followed May out of the car. "Hey Ned."

"Hi, Mr. Stark."

"I'll take their bags to their rooms," Happy offered, not waiting for a response, although May tried to thank him, Instead she turned to Stark.

"How's Peter?"

"He's a bit sore, still recovering. But he's learning to swim."

"Really?"

"I've seen it for myself, so it has to be true."

"I tried to teach him once," Ned said as they turned toward the building and headed for the entrance. "But it didn't work."

"Why not?"

"Because _he_ can't swim, either," May answered. "They read a book and suddenly thought they were both Michael Phelps. The lifeguard had to pull them out of the pool."

Tony smiled.

"By the time Barton's done with him, Peter will be a pro. But you guys stay out of the pool without supervision, you hear?"

"Yes, sir."

They walked into the building, and Stark set the umbrella into a rack with some others to dry.

"Peter's in the lounge."

They both had been there before but they didn't mind having a guide to avoid being lost in the warren of corridors and May and Tony made small talk as they walked. They'd be going back to the city the next day, but both were anxious to check on Peter's progress and Ned was excited to be back at the Avenger's facility.

"You're sure he didn't break anything?" May asked. "He can sometimes be so clumsy."

"Nope. Just some bruises and a little sore. We're keeping a close eye on him, believe me."

They entered the lounge, then, stopping at the entrance to see where Peter was. They saw him at a table, with Steve, Natasha, Clint and Bruce all around it with him. They were all intently watching their hands, where each held some cards and appeared to be passing others on to the person beside them.

"Are they playing _cards_?" May asked, amused. "I'm afraid to know how much he owes, now."

"The boy is a _glutton_ for punishment," Tony agreed.

Suddenly there was a mad scramble. Peter's hand barely moved, but it was enough. Steve snatched something off the table, Bruce dove _onto_ the table, and Natasha dove on top of him, with Barton right behind her. He rolled off her and landed in Steve's chair, knocking the other man and himself to the floor, but he came up with something metallic in his hands and a triumphant expression on his face. Natasha was trying to grab something that was obviously under Banner's body, because the two of them were wrestling on the table, with him wrapped into a tight ball to keep her away from it.

"What on _Earth_?" May asked, stunned.

"They're playing _spoons_!" Ned said, with a whoop, and hustled over to the table to join them.

Peter's aunt looked at Tony, who was watching Peter with concern, although the boy wasn't part of the melee this time, and he looked like he was having a good time. He shrugged when he caught her expression.

"It's not my idea," he said. "I thought they were going to play darts, or video games, or something."

When they walked over the table, Steve smiled up at them, his spoon in his hand.

"We found a game Peter is good at," he told Stark.

Peter nodded, holding up his own spoon. He hadn't even had to move too much to get it – which helped him stay away from the wrestling match on the table where Natasha was still trying to find the spoon that Bruce was laying on and couldn't grab without losing the prize to her.

" _I_ didn't teach them this," Tony told May. "I promise."

She smiled, but just shook her head. As much as she was concerned by the bruising she could now see on his face, she was also relieved to see that he was really as alert as Stark had told her he was. She'd just assumed that he might have been holding back a little to keep her from worrying.

OOOOOOOOO

"He looks moderately awful," May said, watching from the next table over as the card game started anew, this time with Ned joining in, clearly excited to be sitting beside Captain America. Stark had gestured to the table rather than stand and watch the card players, and had brought them both something to drink from the bar.

"Doctor Strange said it's only a minor setback."

Truthfully, Strange hadn't yet had a chance to look at Peter. He had left soon after they'd released Loki and Thor had gone to make sure his brother wasn't throwing a tantrum by making someone else's life miserable. He didn't say where he was going, or what he was doing, but he was a big boy and Tony knew he didn't need to check in every five minutes. Since Wong had left with him, Stark assumed it was something Sanctum related that they were doing. He'd come up with a way to thank them for their help with Loki when it presented itself. It was always hard to gift someone who had everything they needed – as Tony well knew.

"How long until he's ready to come home?"

"I'm going to leave that for Strange to answer," Tony told her, shrugging. "He seems happy enough with Peter's progress, but he _did_ mention the chance of a relapse and we'd much rather have him here under supervision if that occurs."

"So would I," she admitted. "I-"

They were interrupted by another uproar from the other table. Now it was Natasha who was the one who initiated grabbing a spoon, with Peter immediately behind her, his quick reflexes obviously an asset in this game. Steve was the one who went over the table with Clint right behind him, both landing pretty much in Peter's lap and sending the three of them to the floor in a pile, and a lone spoon clattering across the surface in a mad dash for freedom that ended with Barton grabbing it before Steve could manage to. Another spoon went flying by them and Bruce landed on Clint, trying to grab it before Steve could notice that it was there.

May and Tony both held their breath, but Peter accepted a ready hand up from Natasha and righted the chair without any help, looking none the worse for having been at the bottom of a dog pile of Avengers.

"They won't hurt him," Stark assured her, taking a sip of his iced tea but thinking that if this crazy game went on much longer, he was definitely going to need something a bit stronger.


	50. Chapter 51

_Author's note: Sorry guys, I'm having some issues with the document uploader and my chapters. (It says I've reached my max amount, and the earlier ones are disappearing!) I still have them on my computer, so no worries, it's just a matter of me figuring out what I'm doing wrong – hopefully with some help from the support people. But it is a weekend, so it might not be for a few days. I'll make adjustments as needed until then. At least I'll try to! I hate to wait to get a chapter up when it's written._

OOOOOOOOOOO

The game was still going strong more than an hour later when Stephen Strange walked into the lounge. He frowned at the sight of his patient out of bed and watching with the others while Ned and Clint wrestled over ownership of a spoon. Instead of asking any of _them_ what was going on, he went to the table where Stark and May had been joined by Pepper and were watching the game. All three had been invited to join in, but all had declined. Some things were almost as much fun to observe as they were to participate in.

"Do I even want to know why they're fighting over a _spoon_?" he asked the table at large.

Pepper laughed and shook her head, but Tony was the one who answered.

"It's a game."

"A fairly _rough_ one, from the looks of things."

Clint had pinned Ned to the table and was holding him down with one hand and trying to pry the spoon out of the boy's hand with the other.

"It can be."

Strange watched as Barton finally got the spoon away from Ned, who was having way too much fun to care about losing. The doctor walked over to them, nodding a greeting when they acknowledged him.

"Time to call it a night, folks."

The good thing about the Avengers – as far as Strange was concerned – was that they were all intelligent and they knew if he was breaking up the game there was a reason for it, and none of them argued about it. Ned's expression was a bit rebellious, but Peter almost looked relieved, although he was clearly enjoying himself.

"We'll do it again," Natasha told Peter. "I haven't had this much fun in a long time."

The boy nodded, and the cards were gathered and the spoons placed on the bar to be dealt with in the morning.

"Tony? Will you help me get Peter back to his room?"

Stark nodded, gave Pepper a quick smile and stood up.

"I can help," May offered.

Stephen shook his head.

"Say your goodnights here, please. You can see him in the morning."

She didn't like that, he could tell, but _she_ didn't argue, either. Instead she did just that, telling Peter she would see him in the morning and leaving when the others did, Ned trailing behind, talking to Clint about how he'd played Robin Hood in a play in 6th grade.

When the lounge was empty of everyone but the three of them, the doctor turned his attention to Peter, who was still sitting in his chair.

"How do you feel?"

"Okay."

"Is the painkiller wearing off?"

"Yeah."

Stark frowned.

"Why didn't you say something?"

"In front of _May_?"

Tony rolled his eyes, annoyed that the boy was so protective of his aunt – who was supposed to be protecting _him_ , not the other way around. But he knew it was an argument he'd never win with him. Peter looked like a scrawny kid, but there was definitely a stubborn streak in him, and Tony had recognized it immediately. It was yet another thing he liked about the boy – unless he was on the wrong side of it, of course.

"We won't be able to use that drug again," Strange told them both. "It's potent and it's _dangerous_. We'll use some over the counter medicines that will help with the worst of it, and keep you off your feet as much as possible. Ice can help with the pain, also."

"Okay."

"No time in the pool, tomorrow, either. We don't need to show off the bandages any more than necessary, and I'm sure you would rather May not see the bruising."

"Yeah."

Strange frowned, and put his hand on Peter's forehead.

"Are you feeling alright?"

"Yeah. Just sore, I think."

"Why do you ask?" Tony asked, moving to stand beside Stephen and putting his hand next to Strange's. Peter moved his head away from both of them.

"I'm _fine_ ," he told them. "Just sore. Really."

"Anywhere in particular?"

"I had a guy throwing _trees_ at me," Peter reminded them. "It hurts _everywhere_."

"Speaking of that guy…" Tony said as he and Strange helped Peter to his feet, careful to avoid jarring his sides any more than necessary. "Is there anything we should know?"

"Wong is working on it."

With one of them on either side of him, Peter allowed them to take most of his weight. Rather than guide him to the door, however, Strange led the way into the kitchen that was behind the bar. Once out of sight of anyone that may be loitering in the lounge area, he simply transported them all to Peter's quarters. Clearly he didn't want Peter walking the halls when he didn't have to be.

A glass of water and a bottle of Tylenol appeared on Peter's nightstand when they helped him into the bedroom and eased him onto the bed.

"Take a couple of those," Strange told him. "Don't get out of bed if you don't need to, and keep covered."

"Okay."

Stark and the doctor left him alone to get himself ready for bed, and walked out into the living area of Peter's quarters.

"What was that all about?" Tony asked. "Is he sick from the soaking he took this morning?"

"Contrary to popularly held beliefs, cold weather doesn't _make_ a person sick. The cold virus does. But it _can_ make someone who is susceptible to getting sick much more likely to catch something. He's _already_ sick. I just want to nip anything that might come up before it gets out of hand."

"Does he need someone to stay with him?"

Strange shook his head.

"He's not going to have more dreams. He just isn't going to be feeling well. I would have let May stay, but she looks tired enough already, Peter doesn't want her to know how badly hurt he actually is - and I didn't want to move him with her in the room, to avoid discussion of my abilities."

" _Can_ I stay with him?" Tony asked.

In reply a stack of neatly folded blankets and a pillow appeared on the sofa beside them.

"Just make sure you get some rest."

"Yeah."

He could do that.


	51. Chapter 52

Everything hurt. The pills had barely taken the edge off, and his entire body throbbed in time to his heartbeat. He closed his eyes, trying to fall asleep to escape how miserable he was, but the pain kept him awake, kept him close. It wouldn't allow him the bliss that his earlier sickness had given him. This time he'd suffer the misery instead of sleeping through it. He couldn't even toss and turn, since that only added to his discomfort, and he couldn't get comfortable no matter what position he tried. Peter wasn't used to being injured, and he decided that he wasn't very good at it.

He finally couldn't hold still. Restless and irritable, he pushed the blanket off, muffling a grunt of pain as he did so. Through the partially open door of his bedroom, he could see the flicker of the television in the main room of his quarters, even though he couldn't hear any sound. Maybe someone was there, or maybe they'd just left the TV on when they'd left. Whatever it was, it would be a distraction and that was what he really needed. Not that he didn't have a TV in his room, but perversely, sitting still just wasn't an option, even when he ached every time he moved.

He felt stiff and wooden just walking to the door, and had to lean on the frame once he pushed it open, taking a breather and to see if the pain would ease a little bit. It didn't. The room was dark, but in the light of the television he could see Stark sitting on the sofa, his feet up on the coffee table, leaning against a pillow and a couple of folded blankets, watching TV and working his way through an apple, cutting it slice by slice and eating each slice directly off the knife.

Tony looked up, his attention caught by the motion at the door, and frowned. Peter was leaning against the door, his borrowed clothes making him look smaller than he really was, and his expression pinched with pain.

"What's wrong?" He asked, setting the knife and apple on a plate and getting up to walk over to him.

"Nothing."

Stark frowned, his hand going almost automatically to Peter's forehead. He felt hot to him, but not as hot as he had when the fever had been so terrible.

"You're supposed to be in bed."

"I can't sleep."

"Here." Stark put a steadying hand under his armpit and walked him over to the sofa, easing him down into the spot he'd just abandoned. "Is the television keeping you awake?"

Peter shook his head. Stark was watching a movie, and had the mute on with captions going across the bottom.

"I didn't even know you were here," he admitted, running his hand along his side. "I just couldn't sleep."

"Are you in pain?"

"A little."

More like a _lot_ , but he wasn't going to admit that. Tony didn't need him to, though. He'd had times when he was too sore to sleep, too. He sat down beside Peter and picked his apple and knife up.

"Well I can't sleep, either. You can keep me company."

"Okay."

"Good." He sliced a piece off the apple and presented it to Peter still on the knife. "Apple?"

"Thanks." Peter took the apple and looked at the television, not recognizing the show. "What are you watching?"

" _The Hustler_."

"Never heard of it."

"Yeah, it's way before your time. It's pretty much before _my_ time, really. Good flick, though."

Stark explained the premise of the movie as the two of them finished the apple, but he didn't turn on the sound, figuring that the boy had a better chance of falling asleep with one less noise to keep him awake. With Peter's fondness for movies, there was every chance that he might stay awake the entire time, but Tony was hoping to lull him to sleep if he could. He pulled one of the folded blankets from behind Peter and draped it over him, worried about keeping him warm, and put his arm around the boy's shoulder, affectionately.

"You can stay up and watch it with me," he said. "But if anyone asks, _I_ was never here, and _you_ slept all night. Deal?"

"Deal."

"Good."

Tony leaned back against the leather of the sofa and put his feet up on the coffee table once more. Peter rested his head against Stark's arm and the pillow behind him, and eventually drifted off. He still _ached_ , of course, but he wasn't facing that pain alone, now. Even though he didn't think of it that way, it was comforting enough that it helped him sleep.

Stark switched his attention between the movie and the boy, watching as Peter dozed off. He debated putting him back to bed, but decided that it would hurt enough to wake him up if he did. Not an option as far as he was concerned. He was still worried about Peter having a setback – Strange hadn't said that he wouldn't, after all – but they'd pulled him through the worst of it and the boy had proven he was up to the challenge. If he got sick, they'd get him through that, too.

OOOOOOO

"How is it progressing?"

"I'll be done by morning."

"It's late," Strange said. "Take a break and finish tomorrow. There isn't any real hurry at this point."

Wong nodded, and closed the book he'd been studying. He stood up and stretched a little.

"Are you hungry?"

"Are you cooking?"

"How about take out?"

"Sounds good."

The two men walked out of the library in comfortable silence. It had been a good day, really, and how many times did one actually get a chance to bully a god? Even in their world that opportunity didn't come up often.


	52. Chapter 53

Tony woke when Peter did. He knew the exact moment because it was preceded by a soft whimper of pain and a sudden tension in the sleeping form against him.

"Easy."

He had fallen asleep with the arm still resting on Peter and his hand tightened gently, helping the boy find equilibrium in case he was having a bad dream and needed help coming out of it.

"Ow…"

So it wasn't a nightmare, only pain. Stark knew he hadn't tightened his grip enough to be the cause of that pain.

"Peter."

He groaned and turned, burying his head against Tony's side, trying to smother the pain that was coursing through him, but only succeeding in making his chest hurt worse. Stark wanted to hold him, but figured it would only cause more pain if he did.

"Wake up, Peter," Tony said, rubbing his back, gently. " _Hey_ …"

The boy tilted his head, looking up at him, but couldn't hold his head up for long. Not with the throbbing going on behind his right eye. It felt like someone was inside his head trying to force his way out.

" _Mr. Stark_ …"

"Yeah. It hurts?"

"Yeah."

More awake, now, Peter tried to focus a bit. The pain didn't _ease_ , but now that he was awake and more in control of himself, he wasn't moving. Moving hurt more than holding still.

"Take deep breaths," Tony told him. "You're going to hurt yourself more if you move around too much."

"Okay."

How long they were like that, Tony wasn't completely sure, but he was in no hurry to move – or to move Peter. When he was ready, he'd know. He looked at his watch – it was still early. No one would be up, yet. Stark was tempted to call a medic up to give Peter something stronger for the pain, but he knew that Strange would have already done just that if not for the more potent drug that the boy had been given earlier. Until it had cleared Peter's system Strange had told them it was too dangerous to give him anything stronger than what he already had.

"You're okay," Tony murmured, knowing it was scant comfort, but really all he could offer just then.

"I'm okay," Peter told him, his voice muffled by Stark's shirt. "Just give me a minute…"

"As long as you need," he assured him, resting his hand on the back of the boy's head. "Hold on a minute and I'll get you some pills."

He gently disengaged himself from Peter's grip and eased off the sofa long enough to go into the boy's room and get the water and the Tylenol bottle. When he returned he helped him sit upright enough that he wouldn't have to worry about him choking and gave him four pills and the glass, which Peter accepted gratefully and downed as quickly as he could.

He rested his cheek against the cool leather of the couch and looked at Tony, waiting for the pain to ease.

"Man…"

The movies never showed the aftermath of the hero getting his butt kicked, but Peter was definitely feeling it.

"What hurts the most?"

Stark wasn't worried about the pain – although he definitely _felt_ for the boy. They knew he hadn't broken anything, only had some cracked ribs and a lot of bruising. That was going to take a while to heal, but it wasn't life-threatening, no matter how much it hurt. He was worried because Peter didn't have that glassy-eyed look that the fever had produced before. This time his gaze was hyper alert.

" _Everything_."

"I bet."

They were silent as they sat there. Peter had closed his eyes, but Tony knew he wasn't asleep. He could tell by how rigid he was, even leaning against the pillow Stark had tucked behind his head. The pain was still there, it just wasn't in command as it had been when the boy was waking up. Tony didn't know it, but the company was helping, as well. He just knew that he didn't want the kid to have to deal with it alone.

An hour or two after he'd woke, and by now Tony wondered if maybe Peter _had_ fallen asleep and was just not resting _peacefully_ , the boy stirred again.

"Doctor Strange is coming…" he murmured.

"What?"

A moment later, Strange was suddenly in the living room, startling Tony. He looked around, saw the two on the sofa and walked over, holding a package under one arm. He frowned when he palmed Peter's forehead, feeling the fever burning once more. The lights in the room came on without the man even making a gesture.

"Is he awake?"

"Yeah. He woke up a couple of hours ago."

"Peter?"

The boy didn't open his eyes, but he nodded.

"Yes."

"How do you feel?"

"Sore. Hot."

"Any bad dreams?"

"No."

"Is he relapsing?" Stark asked.

Strange shook his head.

"It's not like before, Tony. Not if he's not delirious or having dreams."

"But he's hot."

"The fever is probably just his body working on damage control. It's not uncommon." He held up the package he'd been carrying. "Wong sent something that might help with both."

"Oh?"

"Yes. He's working on something else, right now, as well. But this might be just the thing to get our young friend through the worst of this."

"What is it?" Peter asked as Strange produced a small earthenware pot and opened it. Inside was a goo that looked like green oatmeal with black flecks of something in it.

"A poultice."

"Do I eat it?"

It was clear he was hoping for a negative, and Tony had to admit that he was, too.

Strange smiled, shaking his head.

"I'm going to slather it on your chest under the bandages. It should help with the pain, and might heal your ribs faster."

"Really?"

"What's in it?" Tony asked at the same time.

"You'd have to ask Wong," Strange admitted. "I know one ingredient is a plant that only grows in the wastelands in the north of Mongolia." He knew because Wong had sent him to get it just the evening before.

Tony hesitated.

"Are we sure that's a good idea? What if Peter has a reaction to this one, too?"

Stephen shook his head.

"Not _all_ plants want to kill us, Tony. Most are beneficial in some way – medicinal, foodstuff or even _recreational_ , I suppose."

"I wouldn't know anything about that," Stark said.

"Right." Strange's smile was genuinely amused. "Neither would I."

Peter had a feeling he was missing something, but he couldn't concentrate enough to figure out what.


	53. Chapter 54

_Author's note: I'm really enjoying the Avengers kick I'm on right now, so I'm going to make an actual story. But then it's back to my first love Stargate. Unless I figure out a way to make a crossover that isn't ridiculous. Thanks for reading. This will not follow the timelines exactly as I want to play with characters that might not normally be hanging out together._

 _Additional note: this is CHAPTER 1 for this story. Until I figure out how to fix whatever I did, this is going to have to be a placeholder for the chapter so new readers don't miss the beginning. I'm sorry for the confusion._

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Something was nagging in the back of his mind. Not a bad something, just something that said he wasn't alone. It was one of those things that once he knew it he couldn't ignore it. And it wouldn't let him stay asleep, even though he was _very_ tired.

Peter Parker opened his eyes, and was immediately confused. Both because he was most definitely not in his room, and because he had no idea how he got where he was – and no memory to help him figure it out. He stared up at the ceiling – which was starkly white but muted by a soft light that was flush with the paneling that he automatically counted as he tried to remember what had happened.

"Finally…"

He looked over at the familiar voice, and winced at the pain that seared through his head. Tony Stark was sitting beside the bed that he was in, and didn't miss the expression. He didn't say anything, though, he just leaned forward a little and put his hand on Peter's forehead, his eyes unreadable as he tested the boy's temperature.

"Mr. Stark?"

"No. I'm your Aunt May."

Peter frowned, uncertainly.

"What?"

Stark flashed a wry smile and took his hand back.

"Sorry. Bad joke and not the best time for it. How do you feel?"

"I don't – where am I? What happened?"

"What do you remember?"

Peter shook his head.

"Nothing. I-"

The door to the room opened, drawing their attention and a man that looked vaguely familiar to Peter walked in. Tall, dark hair and a goatee with an intense gaze that matched Stark's when he looked over at Peter, the man closed the door behind him and walked over to the bed. Tony stood as he approached.

"Peter Parker, meet Doctor Stephen Strange."

"Um… hi."

"A little more enthusiasm, Peter," Tony said. "Doctor Strange here probably saved your life."

"What?"

Strange shook his head, and leaned over Peter to run a hand along his forehead and then his cheek for just a moment before straightening up once more.

"That's a bit of an exaggeration," he said, moving to the other side of the bed and expertly shifting Peter before he even knew what was happening. Suddenly the boy was more upright, with a couple of pillows propping him from behind and cradling his aching head. "You were very sick, but hardly at death's door."

"I don't understand." Peter looked from one man to the other.

"What do you remember?" Strange asked, echoing Tony without realizing it.

"Nothing."

"Being moved here?"

"No."

"Passing out in the middle of a web swing?"

Peter looked over at Tony, alarmed, and then back to the doctor.

"I don't know what-"

"It's okay, Peter," Stark said quickly. "He knows."

"He does?"

"I do."

"You do?"

"Yes."

"And he won't tell anyone."

"Pretty much everyone here already knows," Strange told him with a slight smile.

"Where are we?" Peter asked.

"The Avenger's facility," Stark answered.

"What? Why?"

"We couldn't have any doctors drawing a blood sample and learning what should best be kept under wraps," Strange replied. "Now relax, and tell me what you remember."

Peter felt like the floor had been pulled out from under him and between the pain in his head and the confusion in his mind, he couldn't have concentrated enough to remember his name just then. He brought his hand up to rub his face, tiredly, and realized that there was an IV line in the back of his hand. His gaze followed the line to a bag of clear liquid handing from a stand, but before he could say anything, Strange spoke up again.

"Try to concentrate, Peter."

"Why didn't you tell someone you were sick?" Tony asked – demanded, really.

"I'm not. I mean, I didn't think I was. Just a cold. Everyone has it."

"Yes," Strange agreed. "A lot of students at your school did, but it's not a cold – and none seem to have been hit the way you were. I've never seen a reaction like yours."

"Next time, say something."

Tony had taken a scare he wasn't willing to admit, but he was more than ready to lash out at the one who'd scared him.

"I'm sick?" Peter asked.

"You're getting better," Strange answered, glaring at Stark for confusing his patient further. Obviously the boy didn't need a lecture right then. "But you _are_ still sick, yes."

"Does May know?"

"That you're sick?" Tony asked. "Of course."

"That I'm…" Peter looked over at Strange. "You know…"

"She knows that you're sick. She knows that I found you delirious by the river – which is true. She doesn't know that Karen called for help when she realized that something was wrong and that I had you brought here to keep your secret identity a secret. She thinks that I brought you here for special treatment – also true – since the good doctor here is treating you special."

"Thank you."

Since neither man knew who he was talking to – or what part he was talking about – they both simply nodded.

"Do you think you're up to actually eating something?" Strange asked. "We should probably start trying to get some weight back on you."

"Aunt May's gotta be freaking out," Peter said, suddenly, sitting more upright and ignoring the way his head started protesting the quick motion. "I need to call her and-"

"She's here," Tony told him, putting a hand on the boy's chest to hold him still. "Relax."

"She'll be better now that you're awake," Strange said, looking Peter over with an experienced eye. He looked better than he had, but the illness had definitely taken a toll.

"How long have I been here?"

"About a week."

"Six days," Stark replied at the same time.

Peter was stunned, but Strange stepped in before he could get worked up.

"You need to relax, Peter," he said, smoothly. "She's fine and you will be, too." He sat next to the bed and pulled a rolling stand over. "Give me your hand."

When Peter complied he quickly removed the IV and then moved everything out of the way as he stood up again.

"What does he need?" Tony asked.

"Solid food and a chance to get his bearings." Strange turned for the door but stopped and turned with his hand on the knob. "Don't eat too much or you'll get sick. I'll be back later to check on you."

He left before Peter could reply, closing the door behind him and leaving them alone.


	54. Chapter 55

"Seriously… do you do _brain surgery_ this way?"

Strange looked over at Stark, who had been watching him apply the poultice to Peter's chest. Originally, just to lend a hand when needed to avoid any jarring that might hurt the boy, but then out of grudging fascination. Rather than pull his shirt off, Strange had simply gestured and it was hung over the back of the sofa. Then he'd held up his hand and a pair of scissors had appeared, which he used to cut off the bandages that were wrapped so tightly around Peter's chest and belly.

Stark had frowned at just how many shades of purple and black there were splotched along the area that had been covered and he had to admit that if May had any idea, she probably would have freaked. _He_ almost did, and he'd looked just like that a time or two, so he was used to the results of heroic combat. Or in Peter's case, getting beat up by a crazy godling.

Rather than use his hand, another gesture had materialized a flat spatula looking thing that probably had a medical name, but looked a lot like something Tony might have used in the kitchen baking a cake. If he actually _baked_. Or spent any time in the kitchen. This was used to smear the oatmeal looking paste onto Peter's chest and belly, covering all the bruises and the tiny cuts that were already well on their way to being healed.

"What do you mean?" Strange asked, curiously.

Tony gesture with a hand.

"I need a scalpel. _Poof_! I need retractors. _Poof_! Bring me another patient. _Poof_!"

Peter chuckled, because he had been just as fascinated by the process and Strange couldn't help but smile. He shook his head, though.

"No, I didn't learn my arts until _after_ I injured my hands. Before that it was just like everyone else would do it."

"You _learned_ magic?" Peter asked. He had just assumed that it was something someone was born with. Or that Strange might be an alien or something hiding out in human form.

"Of course."

"Anyone could do it?"

"With a lot of practice it can be learned, yes." He shrugged. "Up to a point. It doesn't hurt to be born with a leaning in that direction."

"You were?" Tony asked.

"Yes. But I didn't know that until I tried it."

The doctor winked at Peter, made a gesture and a couple of rolls of bandages appeared on the coffee table, along with tape told hold it down. He picked one of the bandages up and started wrapping them over the poultice, tightly.

"Watch what I'm doing, Tony. If I'm not here this afternoon you're going to be doing it."

"Right."

"Not so tight that it hurts, but enough to support those ribs, and keep the poultice right up against the skin."

Strange slid a finger under the bottom of the bandage and had Tony do the same to get a feel for what it should be like, then taped it all firmly closed, and helped Peter get his shirt back on.

"That's it. The good thing about the medicine being on the _outside_ is that in this case, at least, there's no limit to how often we apply it, but Wong says every eight hours or so should keep it fresh."

"What do we do when it runs out?" Tony asked. It wasn't a very big pot, after all.

"It won't."

"Seriously?"

"That's _cool_ ," Peter murmured, amazed all over again.

"I'll tell him you approve," Stephen told them.

"Tell him I said thanks," Peter said, sincerely. The stuff wasn't doing much for the pain yet, but he was touched that Wong had even thought of him. Even if all it did was leave a smear of green on him, it was still the thought that counts.

"Invite him to your aunt's surprise party," Strange suggested. "He doesn't get out enough."

"Sure."

"Now what?" Tony asked, switching to the subject at hand.

"He needs to rest until breakfast. Then feed him and keep him as still as possible for the next couple of days. By then, the poultice should have done its job and we should be over the worst of the pain. Then back to water therapy to regain stamina."

"Thanks, Stephen."

"You're welcome."

"That party invitation extends to you, as well, you know? You and Christine, both."

The doctor nodded.

"We accept." He gestured and several more rolls of bandages and tape appeared on the coffee table. Then he stood up. "Wong and I are working on teaching the Sanctum protections to look for indications of any future activities from Loki."

"Do you think he'll attack the Sanctum?" Stark asked.

"No. I doubt it. The place is more than a match for him. But once we do, we'll spread that net over the city – just to make sure we don't have a repeat of anything like this again."

"Good idea."

Tony approved of anything that made his city safer, after all. And something that could keep Peter out of trouble, too.

"I'll be back to check on you later," Strange told Peter. He nodded to them both and vanished.

"That guy knows how to make an exit," Tony said, admiringly.

"It feels weird when he does it," Peter murmured, more to himself than to Tony.

"What do you mean?"

Peter frowned.

"You know, the tingly feeling when he appears or disappears – or when he moves something or makes something come to him."

"Yeah, I don't feel _anything_ like that," Stark replied.

"Never?"

"You _do_?" Tony asked. "Since when?"

"Since always, I think. Or maybe I just noticed it or something."

"Huh." It wasn't derisive, just Tony Stark thinking out loud. "Maybe it's the spider sense, thing. It would make sense, I suppose…"

Peter shrugged.

"Maybe."

"Does it _hurt_?"

"No. Kind of tingles."

"Do you feel it now?"

"No. Only when he does stuff."

Now it was Tony's turn to shrug.

"If it starts to bother you, say something. Okay?"

Peter nodded, and Tony changed the subject.

"Is that stuff working?"

"I'd rather not move around and find out."

Good point.

"Then lay down here, and get some sleep. You were up early."

"Okay."

The sofa was plenty big enough for one scrawny kid to stretch out, and Stark made sure Peter was comfortable and covered before he sat down on the other end and pulled the switch to recline his side. He wondered how many other applications Peter's spider senses could work with – and wondered if there was a way to incorporate those feelings into the suit he'd built for him. Or the suit he was building. He'd have to think about that.

After _he_ took a nap, too.


	55. Chapter 56

It was May who woke them a couple of hours later. Or rather the rattling noises that were made when she started setting a tray down on the coffee table and separating the formidable breakfast she'd brought with her into two different meals. She smiled when Tony opened his eyes, confused for just a moment until his brain caught up with his eyes. May smiled, despite herself. She had to admit, Tony Stark was cute when he was sleepy.

"Good morning," she said, softly, glancing over to see if Peter had woken as well. The boy was sleeping on his side, his head on the arm of the sofa and the pillow gathered against him like a teddy bear. He looked miserable, even asleep. Tony could see that he was still flushed from fever, even from the other side of the couch.

"Morning."

Stark looked at his watch, but the light coming through the bedroom window gave plenty of evidence that he'd had a chance to get some real rest.

"Breakfast?"

"Yes. Thank you."

She handed him a cup of coffee, and then took one for herself and sat on the coffee table rather than move Peter's legs enough to join the two of them on the couch.

"When I woke up there was a note on my door from Doctor Strange, telling me to make sure both of you eat a big breakfast and that Peter shouldn't do much moving around today. He suggested the couch was about as far as he'd want to go. Looking at him, I tend to agree."

Tony nodded.

"Ribs hurt."

"I brought him some clothes, and more homework."

Stark smiled.

"I'm sure he'll appreciate the clothes."

The homework, well maybe not so much.

"Should I wake him up, or let him sleep?"

He knew she wanted him awake so she could judge for herself just how he was doing, and as much as Stark didn't want the boy to be miserable, he also didn't want her to worry. That would make Peter worry, which would make Tony worry as well.

"Nothing worse than cold eggs…"

May nodded at that and set her coffee down and leaned over to brush her fingers against Peter's cheek.

"Peter?"

He sighed in his sleep, but didn't respond right away, so May tried again, trying to avoid shaking him, but poking his arm, where she could see there weren't any bruises.

"Hey, wake up."

Tony nudged Peter's foot at the same time, and the boy stirred, and then groaned when the movement used muscles that screamed in protest. _They_ wanted him to sleep, too. The pain did more than May and Tony combined to wake him.

He opened his eyes, but didn't move. May saw recognition dawn when he realized it was her and she smiled. Tony saw the moment that Peter realized it was May, too, but he doubted that she detected the change in his expression when he went from hurt kid waking up miserable to nephew trying to keep his aunt from worrying by pretending it didn't hurt nearly as much as it did.

"Hi, May," Peter whispered.

"Good morning. Time for breakfast."

He looked at the tray, clearly deciding if breakfast was worth the pain of sitting upright to eat it. Tony set his coffee down.

"Here, Peter," he said. "I'll help you."

Stark didn't really _help_ Peter, he did all the work for him, pulling him into a sitting position and tucking the pillow next to him to brace him in place. The boy paled but didn't protest, grateful for the assist, and May put a plate of eggs and sausages in his lap.

"Eat, and then you can go back to sleep."

He nodded, and May sat back down on the coffee table, wanting to be where she could watch his progress.

"Is that poultice doing any good?" Tony asked, hoping to take Peter's mind off his misery.

"What poultice?" May asked, curiously.

Tony explained what Strange had told them earlier, and showed her the pot of green goo that was sitting on the coffee table beside her. She looked at it, and then at Peter, who had choked down a few sausages during the conversation between Stark and May.

"Well?"

"Yeah. It's not so bad."

"You still have a fever."

"It's not going to work on everything right away," Peter pointed out.

She shrugged at that but decided that was probably true. She gestured to his breakfast, and also to Stark.

"Eat."

Both of them obeyed her without question and while they did May picked up the little pot and examined the goo with the end of a knife.

OOOOOOOOOO

"Are you good here?" Tony asked an hour later.

Once Peter had eaten, he'd fallen asleep almost immediately, this time with May sitting beside him and his head on her shoulder and her arm around him.

"Yes. Go ahead and do whatever you need to do. I'll stay with him and keep him company."

He handed her the remote control for the television and picked up the tray.

"Thanks for breakfast."

"You're welcome. If you happen to see Ned, tell him where I am, please."

He left them alone and carried the tray to the commissary debating whether there was anything that required his immediate attention or if he could go get a shower and a change of clothes, first. The sleep had done him a world of good. He hoped it would do the same for Peter.


	56. Chapter 57

" _Peter_!"

Rough hands on his arm and an excited whisper jolted him awake. He didn't even have to open his eyes to know who it was, either. With a soft groan he waited for the surge of pain that seemed to go from his head to his waist to pass, which it did – for the most part – and then he opened his eyes to find his best friend sitting beside him on the couch, watching him wake up.

"Ned. Where's May?"

When he'd fallen asleep, _she_ had been the one sitting beside him. He was still upright, but leaning against the arm of the sofa, now, and the pillow. He looked around, but she wasn't in the room.

"She went to get lunch."

"What?"

He looked at his watch and couldn't believe that it was already after three. He had slept for hours. He felt muddled, and hot, but didn't get that explosion of pain through his chest and belly that he'd expected when he shifted to check the time.

Ned noticed the watch immediately, of course. He didn't miss much. He took Peter's wrist, pulling it closer to get a better look.

"New watch?"

"Yeah. Mr. Stark gave it to me."

"Cool. Why so many buttons?"

"Don't tell May, but it's also a communication device."

"Seriously?"

Now Ned was turning Peter's wrist to look at the watch from each direction.

"Yeah."

"Awesome." He pushed a couple of buttons and whistled. "GPS tracker, too. Amazing. Who can you communicate with? Just Mr. Stark? Or all of the Avengers? _NASA_?"

"Anyone who's on the frequency, I think."

"Will it interact with the AI in your suit?"

"I don't know, Ned," Peter admitted, pulling his hand free.

"It probably will. If you already have that kind of tech, it'd be dumb not to allow for the –"

"How long has May been gone?" Peter interrupted, knowing that Ned could go on for hours talking about the tech involved with his suit.

"She just left. How do you feel? You look terrible, but not as bad as before."

"Sore," Peter told him. " _Really_ sore."

"Did you guys have a mission?"

"What?"

"Did you and the Avengers go do something? Kick some butt somewhere?"

Peter frowned.

"No. I've been here, remember? Why?"

"Dude, they're _all_ beat up. And _you're_ beat up. It doesn't take a genius to figure out that something went down. What was it?"

"It wasn't a mission. It was me."

"What?"

" _I_ beat them up. I mean, not on purpose, but when I was sick."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah."

"So they beat you up in return?"

Peter was too groggy to be able to really follow the conversation they were having, but he had to admit that he really missed Ned. It was amazing that the others were willing to spend time with him, but Ned was his own age and that made it easier for him to relate to him. And _he_ wasn't a superhero. Peter knew he had abilities, but he didn't consider himself anywhere in league with the Avengers. Ned was his ground and center.

"No. that was something else."

"You didn't _really_ fall down the stairs, though, right?"

"No. But don't tell May."

"What happened?"

"It's a long story. I'll tell you later."

Ned nodded.

"We brought you some homework, and some clothes."

"Thanks."

"Mr. Stuber told me to tell you to do your homework before 10:00 PM."

"What?"

"He said that he didn't want any calls after that, but that you can call if you have any questions. Did Mr. Stark _really_ call him in the middle of the night just to ask about showing your work?"

"Yeah. Was he mad?"

"Are you kidding? It's _Ironman_ , dude. He mentions it all the time. But I think he'd prefer the calls at a more reasonable time."

Peter nodded.

"I don't blame him. Thanks," he said again. "I can use the clothes."

"Is that _really_ Captain America's shirt?"

"And sweats."

"Can I have them?"

Peter smiled.

"No."

"That'd be something to show, though, huh?"

"Yeah."

Ned shook his head, looking around the room.

"This place is awesome, Peter. I gotta find me a spider and let it bite me."

Peter smiled and shook his head, but before he could reply to that, the door opened and May came in, holding a tray once more. She smiled when she saw he was awake, and even better that he was smiling.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," she said, putting the tray on the table in front of him and Ned. "How do you feel?"

"I'm fine, May," Peter lied. "Just a little stiff and sore."

"The sleep probably helped. Did Ned wake you, or did you wake on your own?"

"On my own."

"I told him you went to get lunch," Ned added, giving her his best innocent look.

She wasn't fooled, but let it slide and sat down next to Ned.

"Eat. Then we'll find something to do for the next hour or so until we go."

"You're leaving already?"

She shrugged.

"It's a school night. I can't keep Ned out too late – and I still need to get the car taken care of before all the tire shops close."

"What happened to the car?" Peter asked, curiously.

"Someone stole all the tires," Ned answered before May could. "That's why Happy came and got us instead of May driving us yesterday."

"Seriously?"

She nodded.

"It was bound to happen, I suppose. Do you want to watch a movie?" She asked him, changing the subject to keep him from worrying, and picking up the remote control. "This place is really wired in."

She had spent a lot of time playing with the remote while Peter slept beside her, so she knew far more about the options available than he did.

"Sure. You pick it."

Peter forced himself to reach for one of the plates on the tray and bit down on the pain he felt when moving muscles that would much rather have him go back to sleep. He wanted to spend time with them and knew he could sleep once May and Ned left.


	57. Chapter 58

It was Tony who once more showed up to walk Ned and May to the car. He timed it well, since the movie they'd been watching was rolling its end credits when he walked through the door and Peter wondered absently if there wasn't some kind of way to monitor the streaming technology in the Avenger's facility – or if Stark used the Ironman suit to monitor the sound of the movie to let him know when to come break up the party. Or maybe he just had _good_ timing.

Either way, May hugged Peter carefully and told him that she'd see him as soon as she could, and Ned promised to try to get out the next weekend if his mom would let him.

"I'll be back to change that poultice," Tony told him as he ushered the two out the door in front of him.

Peter nodded and leaned back into the sofa's cool leather once more, feeling hot and miserable but glad he had a chance to keep May from worrying. He closed his eyes, trying to will away the pounding in his head and must have fallen asleep, because the next thing he knew there was a cool hand on his forehead and someone was whispering his name.

"Peter?"

He opened his eyes and saw Natasha crouched in front of him, her expression unreadable. Behind her Tony was hovering, his expression concerned. Peter sat up with a gasp.

"Sorry. I fell asleep."

"Yes, you did," Tony told him, coming over to sit on the coffee table in front of him, where Natasha perched, now, as well. "Look who offered to play doctor with us."

"What?"

Natasha smiled.

"I'm the nurse," she explained,

"The _sexy_ nurse," Stark added, reaching behind him and picking up the scissors from the pile of medical supplies Strange had left them. "She's going to help me change that poultice. Let's get your shirt off."

It wasn't too painful to pull the shirt over his head. He just had to lift his arms. Tony did all the work, but moving enough to get to the edge of the couch wasn't fun and it must have showed in his expression.

"It's not working at all?" Tony asked.

"I can _breathe_ ," Peter told him. "It's not as bad as last night."

"Hold still."

Peter did as he was told, but Stark was not a doctor – or a nurse, for that matter – and he was trying to be careful when he cut through the bandages. Each snip was accompanied by a little tug that felt like a jab to Peter's tender ribs, and although he didn't complain, Natasha finally reached over and took the scissors away.

"Let me."

She had changed bandages before. Many times. She knew being too careful could be just as painful as not and she had no trouble seeing the reaction on Peter's face. The scissors were sharp and with one slice she went all the way along the side edge of the bandages, slicing through them and pulling them away. Peter bit down the gasp of pain, knowing that it was far less than what he would have gone through if she hadn't taken over.

"Ick."

That was Tony.

"Is it _supposed_ to look like that?" Natasha asked.

The paste that had been green when applied was now an almost solid black color that had hardened against Peter's skin until it looked more like a thin layer of tree bark. Tree bark covered in dog poo, Stark decided.

"No clue. But we're going to have to get that off before we put a new layer on."

Natasha reached over and ran a finger under the crusted edge, pulling it toward her. It fell off, brittle, but left a slimy paste against Peter's skin.

"I think the shower is the best bet, Tony."

"Yeah."

Peter nodded, trying to take a piece of the residual paste off as well and running the slime between his finger and thumb, trying to see what it was.

"I need one anyway," he said, wiping his fingers on his shoulder rather than possibly ruining Steve's sweats. As hot as he was, the water would help cool him off and he itched from dried sweat.

He stood up, and promptly sat back down as a wave of dizziness hit him and started his head pounding once more. Tony and Natasha both steadied him as he closed his eyes.

"Peter?"

"I'm okay," he said, quickly, tired of worrying everyone around him. "I think I just stood up too soon."

He opened his eyes and this time made it to his feet – with a hand from both of them under his elbows keeping him balanced until the next wave of dizziness passed,

"I disagree," Tony said, standing as well.

"No, I'm good, Mr. Stark. _Really_."

Natasha shook her head.

"He's going to fall and really hurt himself. We could try to just wipe that stuff off."

Which would probably hurt like hell and they all three knew it.

"I'll stand outside the shower, just in case."

"No," Peter said. " _Really_. I feel better now."

"I'm not your aunt," Tony reminded him. " _One_ of us is going to help you. You decide which."

Natasha smiled at the ultimatum and gave Peter a look that could only be called a challenge. A challenge Peter was not up to even attempting to bluff. And would never have been even if he was feeling one hundred percent.

"You."

Tony smirked at Natasha.

"Sorry, Romanoff. _Bros before hoes_."

She made a show of being disappointed, but Peter knew she was only flirting and it actually made him feel better.

"You'll never know what you just passed on, Peter," she told him, standing to help Stark walk him into the bathroom, at least. "And Tony… if you ever call me a ho again, you're going to have to _live_ in that Ironman suit of yours."

Peter laughed out loud at that, and Tony smiled, but he knew what Peter didn't. Natasha said it as a joke, but she could carry out that threat. He met her gaze over Peter's head and he silently acknowledged the reprimand and she just as silently told him with a look that she approved of anything that made Peter forget how miserable it was to be on his feet, and would it slide this time.

OOOOOOOOOOO

While the boys were in the bathroom, Natasha took a moment to clean up the mess that they'd made with the bandages and had fetched a pair of shorts and clean sweats from the stack of clothing that may had brought. She handed them to Tony through the bathroom door, carefully averting her eyes to save Peter's modesty and then picked up the pot of poultice that Stark had pointed out and tried to figure out what was in it.

When the bathroom door opened next, a freshly washed Peter Parker and a very damp Tony Stark walked out and joined her on the sofa.

"Ouch."

Natasha hadn't seen the bruises since she'd pulled Peter from the attack by Loki. Now she understood just why he was having so much trouble moving. The boy was literally black, blue and purple from his armpits to just above the waistband of his sweats.

"It looks worse than it feels," Peter assured her, easing down onto the sofa with a lot of help from the two of them. "Really."

"I _hope_ so."

Tony picked up the spatula that Strange had used to coat the poultice on Peter that morning in one hand and Natasha held the pot for him.

"Ready?"

"Are you _sure_ you know what you're doing?" Romanoff asked.

"It's like putting frosting on a cake, Natasha," Stark said. "How hard can it be?" Strange had shown him what to do, after all.

OOOOOOOOOO

"It didn't look like this last time," Peter observed fifteen minutes later.

Tony scowled, putting down the spatula. There was poultice everywhere. Splattered on the coffee table, on the sofa, in Stark's hair and liberally smeared on his clothes. A layer of the stuff about an inch thick was also now coated on Peter's chest and belly. Natasha had long since dissolved into helpless giggles as the pot had had to refill itself twice while Tony proved that _watching_ a doctor was not the same as _being_ a doctor and a spy/assassin did not always make the best nurse.

"Is it _on_?" He asked.

"Yes."

"There you go." He turned to his nurse, who was wiping her eyes with a dry bandage. "We need to wrap him up before it dries."

"The Hoover dam is going to dry before that stuff does," she told him, handing him a roll of the bandages.

"Do you want to do this?"

"I'll _assist_."

Tony wrapped the bandages as carefully as he could, making them tight and doing a decent job of keeping the goo on the inside of the first layer. Then he added another layer, just for good measure. Natasha held the ends while he taped the bandages down, several times. By the time he was finished Peter felt like a badly wrapped Christmas present. But he had to admit, he still felt better than he had before.

"Better?"

Peter nodded, and Natasha helped him put a clean t-shirt on.

"You look better."

"I'm going to go get cleaned up," Tony told them. "You try to get some more sleep, okay?"

"Yeah."

"I'll stay and keep him company," Natasha said, picking up one of the few remaining bandages and using it to wipe poultice goo off the sofa so she would have a place to sit.

"I'm okay," Peter objected, knowing full well she probably had a dozen other things she could be doing.

"I know. But this way I can laze about the rest of my weekend with good company."

"Don't argue with her, Peter," Tony told him, standing up. "You'll never win."

Natasha winked at the boy.

"Truer words were never said."


	58. Chapter 59

It was almost two hours before Tony returned to Peter's quarters. He was freshly showered and had changed into clean clothes. He took a moment to call Pepper, who was still in the city, to make sure she didn't need him for anything, and had then stopped in the lounge to get a thermos of coffee and a small armful of various snacks, in case Natasha or Peter had the munchies. _He_ was always willing to eat something and never held it against anyone else who had that same predilection.

Rather than disturb anyone, he didn't bother to knock. Instead he just opened the door and let himself in. And smiled.

Natasha was sitting on the same side of the sofa that he had dozed in earlier and Peter was sprawled along the length of it, his head resting on her thigh with a blanket tucked around him. Her left hand was on his back, her fingers brushing the back of his neck and his hair. Peter was obviously asleep, but Natasha was awake and watching a movie on the television. She glanced over when the door opened, but didn't move to avoid waking the boy. She did however turn off the TV.

"I think I bored him," she murmured when Stark walked over and set the snacks down on the coffee table in front of her. "We were talking and he just fell asleep on me." She smiled down at the boy, clearly as surprised to be in the position she was in as Tony was to find her there. "I don't know if I should be offended or touched."

"I'd say you make him feel safe enough to sleep," Tony said softly, pouring her a cup of coffee, which she accepted with a smile of thanks. "That's got to be a good thing, right?"

"Yeah."

There were very few who were that relaxed around her, and she knew it. With good reason.

"You can't keep him," Tony told her, his eyes amused as he took a sip of coffee.

"I'm tempted to." Her hand brushed against his cheek, but Peter didn't stir. "What can he do?"

"We haven't figured that out, yet," Stark answered, truthfully. "He's strong, durable – obviously – and quick. He can stick to walls, and he's pretty smart. He keeps adding to the list the more I get to know him."

"Impressive."

"Yeah." Tony watched Peter sleep for a moment. "But he's still _young_. When he puts on his mask it's hard to remember that, and I think I expect too much out of him. When he's like this, though…"

He trailed off, uncertain how explain to her what he couldn't even explain to himself.

"He's _really_ warm," Natasha said, allowing the subject to change before it got uncomfortable for him. "Is that something we should be worried about?"

"Strange said it was possible. He doesn't seem to be worried." It was obvious both of _them_ were, though. "This Loki thing really gave him a setback."

Natasha scowled.

"Barton had the right of it; we should have turned him into a fountain."

Stark shrugged.

"We proved our point. With someone like Loki that's about all you can do."

"And if he comes after Peter again?"

"He shouldn't be able to."

"But if he _does_?"

"Then we turn him into a fountain." He finished his coffee. "Do you need me to take over?"

She shook her head.

"We're not worried about nightmares, anymore, right?"

"No. he just needs to get some sleep and heal up a bit."

"Then I don't mind staying. It's peaceful."

She hadn't minded helping when there _were_ nightmares, either, of course, as her still bruised face contested. But she liked to know what to expect when it was possible. If the worst of those terrors were over and all she had to worry about was drool on her leg or something, she could live with that.

Tony nodded, his expression telling her that he understood. He looked at his watch.

"We'll want to feed him again by eight, so if he wakes up before that call me, okay? If not, we'll wake him up then."

"Sure."

Stark left and Natasha shifted just enough to regain the remote control and put her coffee close at hand – on the other side of the boy so she couldn't accidentally spill on him. Then she turned the movie back on and rested her hand back on Peter's shoulder.

OOOOOOOOOOO

 _There were people running away all around him. Screaming, yelling. Explosions that were even worse than the ones that had brought all the glass down on the crowd minutes before. Before he had lost sight of Ned and his mom in the scramble of people running away from the Expo building. When things had definitely gone wrong._

 _The crowd cleared, and the monster machine came toward him at an awkward trot. He wondered idly if the hydraulics needed to be rechecked to stop the jerkiness of movements._

 _It was hard to see through his mask, but Peter wasn't going to take the mask off. Not ever if he could avoid it. Aunt May had bought it for him for his birthday and he could be_ Ironman _every day, making gadgets, fixing things, solving world peace and making everything right._

 _He could feel the machine staring down at him, even though there was no way to really tell. It seemed to be testing him. Peter wasn't afraid. Not like he had been when he had to admit to May that it was him who had taken the TV apart but hadn't been able to figure out how to get it back together. And the toaster, and the microwave, and the vacuum cleaner._

 _He put his hand up, the left hand with the repulser on it. The monster reacted with a weapon of its own. One far larger than the light on Peter's palm. He hoped he'd given Ned a chance to escape, but he had a feeling that_ he _wasn't going to. Not with that big gun facing down at him._

 _Something clinked behind and beside him and suddenly the boy felt an instant of pure power, followed by an explosion that rocked the monster in front of him back to the ground into several pieces. He was knocked back a step, as well, shocked at the turn of events._

" _Nice work, kid."_

 _Peter barely had time to turn before Ironman was already in the sky and he stared in amazement as his hero flew away, looking for more monsters to kill. He felt a surge of something he was far too young to identify, but he knew he loved the feeling and wanted to hold onto it forever._

 _He was going to be a hero, someday._

 _Someday._

"Someday…"

Natasha frowned down at her charge, her hand tightening on his shoulder. It didn't seem to be a nightmare, but he was definitely dreaming.

"Peter?"

The boy turned his head, looking up at her with an odd expression in his fever-glazed eyes. Even Natasha wasn't certain what that look was. She ran her hand over his forehead, brushing his hair back. He didn't look panicked.

"Are you alright?"

"Natasha?"

"Yeah."

"Where's Ironman?"

"He'll be back, soon," she told him, wondering at the odd way he'd asked for Stark. "Do you hurt, Peter?"

He shook his head.

"No. Nothing can hurt me."

She smiled, because she knew otherwise and had a feeling he wasn't quite awake. If he was, he probably wouldn't have allowed his head to drop back to her leg and wouldn't have cuddled against her like he did. He would most likely have blushed crimson and apologized for what – with any of the others – was a fairly intimate position, but with him was just a way to make him feel better.

"Nothing can hurt you," she agreed. Of course, it would have to go through her to do it, so she was certain he was just as right as he had been wrong. "Go to sleep, Peter. You'll see Ironman soon."

He closed his eyes and did as he was told.


	59. Chapter 60

When Stark returned next, he was pleased to see that Peter was still asleep. And not at all surprised that Natasha _wasn't_. She might have dozed off once he'd left, but Tony knew that there was no way he would have been able to enter the room without waking her, so he hadn't bothered to try. Sure enough, she looked over as soon as the door opened, and gave him a slight nod by way of greeting. Peter was curled up beside her, his head still on her leg and one hand draped over her thigh. Tony wondered with idle amusement how many limbs he'd lose if _he_ tried that position particular position with her.

"Did he wake up?" He asked, sitting a large bag that smelled amazing on the coffee table.

"For a minute," she told him. "I think he was dreaming."

"A nightmare?"

"No. I don't think so, anyway. He asked for you – but I don't think he was really too awake, he went right back to sleep and hasn't moved since."

"Good."

"What's in the bag?"

"KFC. Hungry?"

"You went to _KFC_?"

There wasn't a KFC within fifty miles and they both knew it. Which meant that he had gone Ironman to get it. Tony shrugged.

"I hear it's one of his favorites. See if he'll wake up, will you?"

He started pulling out containers, and Natasha slid her hand to Peter's shoulder, shaking him very carefully to try and wake him up as gently as possible. The last thing they wanted to do was undo all the good the sleep might have done.

"Peter?"

He opened his eyes, turning his head carefully to look at the source of his name.

Natasha smiled down at him, her fingers brushing his forehead, which was till far too warm for her comfort.

"Dinner time," she told him.

"I'm _tired_ ," he mumbled, turning his head and tucking his face back against her leg and tightening his grip a little on her thigh. Natasha smiled, but was more than up to the challenge. Even one presented by a sick teen.

She shook him again, careful to avoid any area of bruising.

"You're supposed to eat."

"It's KFC," Tony added, helpfully, waving a chicken leg near his head. "Come on, Peter. Wake up enough to eat and then you can sleep the rest of the night."

He sighed, but nodded. Natasha could understand how he felt. Exhausted by being sick, and now worn down by injury, he was probably more than ready for some uninterrupted sleep and they were keeping him from having it. But they both wanted him to eat something, and he had to be awake to do it.

Peter tried to sit up and closed his eyes against the ache in his head that seemed had become a permanent companion. He leaned back against the sofa, waiting for the dizziness that accompanied the upright position to pass, and trying to ignore the spasms of pain running from neck to groin and back again. He was either getting used to them or they weren't as bad as before, because they weren't enough to wake him up completely.

"You okay?" Tony asked, his palm going automatically to his forehead. The boy was still alarmingly hot as far as Stark was concerned.

"Yeah. Just tired."

Stark dished him a plate with some of everything rather than have him move around too much and Peter knew that he needed to eat to keep them from worrying, so he didn't protest. He was more sick than hungry, though. He'd had a fairly big lunch and a good breakfast and hadn't done any more than sleep most of the day. He tried, though, but couldn't concentrate on holding a conversation with them and eating and finally gave up on both and started nodding off between bites of potatoes with gravy.

The other two had talked about uninteresting training schedules – more Steve's area than theirs, really – and had made short work of their meal. They watched while Peter slowly, almost painfully, worked his way through a piece of chicken and some coleslaw, but both knew the fight was over when his eyes closed and he dropped the plastic fork onto his mashed potatoes without noticing.

"That's it, I think," Natasha said, rescuing the plate from the boy's lap before he dropped it, too.

"Yeah."

They both cleared the coffee table, and Natasha gathered the left-overs into the bag they came in.

"These will be fine later, when he's hungry," she told Stark. "You got him, or do you want me to stay?"

"No, I've got him. You go ahead."

"If you need me, call."

Tony nodded and stopped in the bathroom long enough to wash his hands before taking the side of the couch that Natasha had abandoned. That was the side that reclined and he had every intention of napping – but no plan to leave Peter just then. Despite Stephen telling them that the fever was probably normal, Tony had had too many scares with the boy lately to leave him alone until he was out of the woods.

While Peter was still somewhat upright, Tony wondered if he would be better off in his bed rather than spending more time on the sofa. Gravity took that decision away from him when the boy moved in his sleep just enough that he lost his balance and ended up in a similar position with Tony that he had been in with Natasha.

He decided to leave him where he was instead of shifting him and maybe hurting him. Without moving his leg, he pulled Peter's blanket back over him and tucked the pillow under the boy's cheek to make it a little more comfortable. Natasha was probably a bit softer than he was, after all.

"Lights…"

The lights in the room went dark at the command and Tony leaned back and closed his eyes. He'd wait to see how the pain was when Peter was more awake to communicate and see what Stephen had in mind if the fever didn't ease up a bit. His hand went to the boy's shoulder, somewhat protectively, and he allowed himself to drift off as well.


	60. Chapter 61

"Peter?"

The voice was soft, but not to be denied, and it woke him almost completely before his body could tell his mind to go back to sleep and ignore it.

He opened his eyes, feeling a little frustrated. For people who insisted he sleep, they were _always_ waking him up. The room was dark, but there was a very faint light coming from the bedroom window and that was all the light he really needed to be able to see clearly. Sitting on the coffee table Doctor Strange was watching him intently. When he saw he was awake, he put his hand on the boy's forehead.

"I thought I'd check on you and change your poultice. Can you sit up?"

He nodded, lifting his head with an elbow under himself and looked over and saw that Stark was asleep beside him. Trying to move slowly, both because he ached abominably and to avoid waking the man who'd clearly been acting as a pillow for him, Peter struggled upright, with a steadying helping hand from the doctor.

"Still hurts?"

"Yeah."

"You're still fevered, too."

"I know."

He looked at Stark again, hoping he didn't hear, but they hadn't woken him. Strange followed his gaze and a blanket appeared, draped across Tony.

"We'll let him sleep," the doctor told him. "He's wearing himself thin."

Peter agreed with that, but frowned, remembering that Loki had wanted to separate him from Mr. Stark when he'd had that scary dream where he'd been talking to Strange but it had really been Loki trying to trick him. Of course, _that_ time Peter had been immediately wary, his instinct screaming at him that it was wrong. This time he didn't feel that at all, and had felt the tingle that he'd come to recognize as Strange doing magic. He couldn't remember feeling that when he'd been with Loki. Of course, he'd been dodging trees at the time, too.

As if he could follow Peter's thought, Strange waited quietly, sitting in the dark while allowing Peter to make up his mind. Finally the boy nodded, more to himself than to Strange, but it was enough.

"Are you dizzy?"

"No."

"How much do you hurt? One to ten?"

"Six."

"That's an improvement."

"Yeah." It wasn't so painful that it was crippling him like it had before, and he was sitting up, using those abused muscles to hold himself still. "That stuff must be working, huh?"

"It appears to be." Strange looked at Stark, and stood up, reaching a hand under Peter's arm to help him to his feet as well. "Let's do this in the bedroom."

It was all the warning he had before they were suddenly in his room, and the hand tightened as Peter stumbled a little at the sudden change of location.

"Sorry."

Strange waited until he was steady, pleased that it didn't take but a moment, and then pushed Peter down on the edge of his bed and went over and closed the door and turned on the light. As he walked back to the bed the pot of poultice and all the supplies materialized on Peter's nightstand.

"Need help with the shirt?"

The boy shook his head and was able to pull his shirt off, although he was always eager to see more magic. The tingle he felt was never painful and the casual ease that Strange did things was awesome to watch.

The doctor frowned, looking at the bandages that were wrapped around Peter's chest and belly. Peter followed his gaze and had to admit that his earlier feeling of being a badly wrapped Christmas present was even more apt when looking again.

" _Tony_ did this?"

"Yeah."

Strange smiled, shaking his head in amusement and muttered something about amateurs before the scissors appeared in his hand and he started expertly cutting through the several layers of tape.

"How long does it take to learn magic?" Peter asked curiously, watching the difference between a skilled doctor and a brilliant engineer who could build anything but obviously needed more practice with bandages. Strange wasn't tugging with each snip of the scissors, and although there was a _lot_ of tape to cut through before they even reached the bandages, he seemed to know exactly where to use the scissors to their greatest efficiency.

"Years," Strange told him. He looked up from what he was doing. "Are you interested in learning?"

Peter shook his head, regretfully.

"I'm going to be an _Avenger_ ," he replied. "At least, I _want_ to be one. If I'm good enough. I probably wouldn't have the dedication that it takes to be both."

"No." Strange turned back to what he was doing, but didn't stop the conversation. "You probably wouldn't be able to be both. Being an Avenger wouldn't be so bad, though. The more I see of them, the more impressed I am."

"You don't want to be one, though?"

Strange shook his head.

"It's not that I don't want to be one, Peter," he replied. "But what I do – what _Wong and I do_ – is more related to other realms. The Avengers are responsible for this world. For _Earth_. We have a much broader scope, and a lot more dimensions to look after. And, like you said, I doubt that I'd be able to dedicate myself and my abilities to both with equal success."

"I can understand that."

The doctor pulled the last of the bandages off while they were talking, and shook his head at the gooey mess that was far worse than the remains of the application Strange had made.

"Tony did this?" he repeated.

Peter smiled and nodded.

"He said it was like putting frosting on a cake."

"Don't let him bake your aunt's birthday cake," Strange advised. He waved a hand along Peter's torso and the entire mess vanished, leaving just the bruises, which were still vivid, but when Peter touched one it didn't seem so tender.

"Let me know if this hurts," Strange told him, running gentle fingers along the boy's ribs and then his belly, testing for stiffness.

"A little."

"One to ten?"

"Four? My ribs are about a five or six."

"Wong's experiment seems to be a success, then." He reached for the pot. "We'll keep it up until you're down to a one."

This time Strange didn't bother with the spatula thing. He just scooped the poultice with his hand and expertly smeared a thick layer along the bruising.

"What about Ned?" Peter asked. "Could _he_ learn magic?"

"Maybe. What does he want to do when he gets older?"

"He wants to be my guy in the chair," Peter answered. When Strange looked up at him curiously, he smiled slightly. "You know, the guy in front of the computer telling me where the bad guys are and where to go next."

"Don't you have an AI in your suit that can do that? Tony's Ironman suit does, if I understand it correctly."

"Yeah. Karen. Ned could be a lot more than my guy in the chair. He's way smarter than I am."

"It takes more than brains," Strange said, finishing his application and waving his hand a little. The poultice that had smeared his hand was gone with yet another tingle. "But you're right about him being smart. I'll think about it. You're both young, yet. There's no rush to make any decisions. Besides, it's a huge commitment, and there's no guarantee of success."

With minimal fuss and far less muss, he wrapped Peter's ribs and belly and taped the bandages down.

"Think you can sleep?"

"I'm not tired."

The faint light from the window showed that dawn was fast approaching, and despite the interruptions, Peter had slept most of the day before and almost all through the night. He'd be tired later, but he was young and felt pretty good after having so much rest, and such an interesting conversation.

"Do you want some company?"

Emboldened by their conversations and having spent a little time with him, Peter smiled.

"Will you do magic tricks?"

Strange arched an eyebrow, but his eyes were amused.

"Want me to pull a rabbit out of your a-"

"I'll pass."

They both grinned, and Strange made a small gesture. A table like the one that had graced the bedside in Peter's medical room appeared between them and on it was a chess board made of black and white marble. The pieces glimmered in their positions, white closest to Peter, the onyx ones nearer to Strange.

"Do you know how to play?"

"Yeah."

"Winner buys breakfast."

"Deal."


	61. Chapter 62

" _You made this?"_

" _You don't believe me?"_

" _Of course I do."_

 _Pepper smirked, but Tony ignored it, knowing that while she was better in the kitchen than he was – and who wasn't, really? – She wasn't up to the challenge that would come with making something so complex. But he wasn't going to quibble. They didn't have enough alone time that he would waste it arguing about who cooked what._

" _After we eat I was thinking that we-"_

" _Sir."_

" _Not_ now _, Friday."_

" _Karen is asking for assistance."_

" _Who's Karen?" Pepper asked, curiously, seeing Tony's expression change at the announcement._

" _Peter's AI."_

" _Karen?"_

 _He shrugged, "I didn't name her. What's the problem?" he asked, standing up._

 _The voice that answered wasn't Friday._

" _Peter is not responding to me. Scans indicate that he has lost consciousness and-"_

" _What? Where is he?"_

 _Tony was already heading for the door, activating the Ironman suit and his own AI was now flashing coordinates in his heads up._

" _Status?"_

" _Uncertain."_

" _What does_ Karen _say?" Tony asked as he launched into the air with a powerful thrust from the suit._

" _He is unresponsive, but is no longer unconscious."_

" _What does that mean?"_

" _She is trying to communicate with him, but he doesn't answer."_

" _Is he alright?"_

" _Karen states that the scans are inconclusive."_

 _As Friday spoke, the scans were being shared between the two AIs and Tony was getting them in his displays. All he knew for sure was that there was a heartbeat._

" _Tell her to keep trying to reach him," Stark ordered. "We're almost there."_

Tony woke abruptly, his heart racing as he relived the anxiety of that night once more. It wasn't the first time he'd had the dream – or a dream that was similar – and he was sure it wouldn't be the last. He looked around, but the room was dark, still. Holding silent to avoid waking Peter, he waited for his heart rate to slow down, his hand reaching for the boy's shoulder to reassure himself that everything was alright.

And only touched the blanket and pillow. He frowned, and felt an instant of panic, especially fresh on the heels of the dream.

"Lights."

The lights came on immediately and he saw that he was alone. And covered with a blanket. He turned on the couch, looking at the bathroom door, but it was open and the room was dark. The bedroom door was closed, though.

Tony activated his Ironman suit.

"Find Peter."

The heads up was instant.

"Peter is in his quarters."

"Vitals?"

"Normal."

Throwing the blanket to the side Stark stood up and deactivated the suit as he crossed the room to the bedroom. He assumed that the boy had woken up and decided that the couch wasn't as comfortable as the bed would be, but Tony had to look to make sure. Especially after the dream he'd just had.

He cracked the door quietly, but the light was on and Peter wasn't alone. Neither Strange or Peter looked up at his entrance. Both were concentrating on something on the table between them and when he came closer he saw that it was a chessboard. There were several black pieces along the side of the board and two white pawns along the other.

Peter looked up first, since he was facing the door, and smiled a greeting to Stark, who felt a little annoyed with himself for worrying, but knew he couldn't help it.

"Good morning," Tony said, sitting on the bed beside Peter, and looking at the board but automatically putting a hand on Peter's forehead to check for fever. He was warm, but his gaze had been fairly lucid. "What's going on?"

"Your protégé is taking me to school," Strange answered, not taking his eyes off the board.

Stark looked at Peter, feigning shock.

" _Really_?"

The boy shrugged, modestly.

"I've always been good at chess."

"He _did_ warn me," Strange said, moving a rook before looking up. "But I assumed the first two losses were just a fluke, so I had to try again. And again."

"And _again_ ," Peter added helpfully, moving his knight.

Strange scowled at him.

"Did you win _any_?" Tony asked.

"I'm going to win _this_ one," Stephen told him.

"Check."

Strange turned his attention back to the board with another scowl.

"Are you _kidding_ me?"

Stark put a hand on Peter's shoulder.

"Tell me you guys are playing for _money_?"

"He owes me breakfast."

"That's not bad."

"That was the _first_ game," Strange muttered. "We went double or nothing on the second."

"Well, _two_ breakfasts. Even better."

"I bet the _Sanctum_ on the third."

" _Seriously_?"

"I told you, I assumed the first two were a fluke. Besides, he gave me a five piece advantage. There was no way I could have lost."

Stark smiled at Peter.

"Did you find out how many bedrooms there are? Bathrooms? Is there on-street parking? We could probably make a killing turning it into a fitness center…"

" _You're_ killing me, Tony," Strange told him, trying to concentrate on the board in front of him. He moved the rook once more and looked up at Peter.

"Check mate."

"What?"

Peter moved his queen and Strange scowled.

"What did you lose _this_ time?" Stark asked, curiously.

"Five dollars," he replied. "I _can_ be taught, after all."

"What's for breakfast?"

"That's up to Peter," Strange answered, looking at the boy.

"Can we go out?" Peter asked, hopefully. He'd been cooped up for a long time, really.

Stark and Strange wore duplicate frowns as they looked at him. Peter switched his expression between the two, but settled on Strange.

"Please? I'll let you have Wong back."

Tony looked at Strange.

"You bet _Wong_?"

"He gave me a _six piece handicap_ ," Stephen told him, shaking his head. Then he shrugged and looked at Tony. "What is there around here?"

"There's a truck stop down the road a ways."

"You'll have to drive."

"Why? Did you lose your _car_ to Peter, too?"

"Funny."

Stark smirked. _He_ thought he was funny.

"Get dressed, Peter. Stephen's taking us to breakfast."

"You're buying your own," Strange told him standing up and stretching a little.

"Ha. Peter owes _me_ $17,000 plus," he said, winking at the boy. "I might make him give me that five he just won from you. That'll buy me coffee and a donut, at least."


	62. Chapter 63

"Are you _really_ going to wear that?"

"It's a _truck stop_ , Stephen," Tony told him as they walked across the grassy area of the compound, waiting for Tony's car to join them. "Not a board room. Peter and I will blend right in. _You_ will stick out like a sore thumb."

Stark had appeared back in Peter's room wearing a pair of blue jeans and a t-shirt with a zip up sweatshirt over it against the chill of the morning. Peter was wearing jeans as well, with a pullover sweatshirt Strange had bundled him into. Both were wearing sneakers.

Strange looked down at his suit and rolled his eyes. A moment later he was wearing jeans as well, with a blazer over a button down shirt.

"Try again," Tony said as his car rolled up.

The blazer vanished, replaced by a sweatshirt similar to the one Tony was wearing.

"One more time."

Stephen sighed, and the button down shirt became a t-shirt.

"That wasn't so hard, now, was it?"

Strange gestured to the car that had rolled up, gleaming in the early sunlight.

"And we're not going to stick out in _this_?"

"Good point." Tony raised his hand and the device in his hand chirped again. The car rolled away and an extended cab pickup rolled up to replace it. It was still shiny, but a bit less ostentatious. "Get in."

The back seat was a bucket seat, so Peter was able to sit in the middle and could watch where they were going and listen to the conversation between the two men as they drove down the country road that connected the Avenger's facility to the highway. From there it was a straight shot of about fifteen miles to the truck stop, which boasted a fairly full parking lot on a Monday morning. Several tractor trailers, a few beat up cars and a dizzying array of pickups of every color and brand lined the front of the building.

"See?" Strange muttered, as they got out of the truck Tony had parked in one of the few open spaces.

Stark shrugged and gave Peter a helping hand to avoid jarring his ribs. No sense in pressing his luck now that he was feeling a little better, after all.

"Peter? Why don't we turn the Sanctum into a 7-11?"

The boy smiled, causing Strange to scowl.

"Don't _encourage_ him, Peter."

They walked into the diner area of the truck stop. It was filled with men and women dressed in mostly jeans, sweatshirts and ball caps of every description.

"We forgot hats," Stephen told them.

"Too late now."

"Three of you?" A woman asked, walking over with menus. She was young, and pretty, and definitely approved of her two older guests to judge by the way she was smiling. If she wondered why all three of them were bruised she didn't show it.

"Yes."

"Table or booth?"

"Either."

Tony was hungry and the place smelled amazing. He had eaten there before, and knew the cooking was good, or he wouldn't have suggested it in the first place.

She seated them and said she'd bring them some coffee without even asking if they wanted coffee. Of course they wanted coffee, it was the lifeblood of the majority of those in the room just then. The place was full and they'd been put in a table that was back by the bar. Peter noticed that even as early as it was there were several men seated at the bar. Some had plates of food in front of them but not all.

"Quaint," Strange said, looking around.

"The food's good."

"It must be," Peter said, his gaze still on the bar, although the truck stop itself was interesting since he'd never been in one before.

The waitress brought back glasses of water and cups of coffee for the men and looked at Peter, her smile just for him.

"What are _you_ drinking honey?"

He froze under her direct, frank gaze, and even though he had thought to have hot chocolate, there was no way he was going to ask for it now.

"Water is fine."

She handed them menus and told them she'd be back in a little bit to get their orders, then hurried off to fill some coffee cups at a table nearby.

"I'm going to go wash my hands," Peter told them, carefully getting to his feet.

"Want help?" Tony asked.

"No. I got it. If she comes back I'll have the number four."

Both men watched as he walked, slowly, toward the cashier station to ask where the bathroom was and then headed back their way to go toward the back of the bar. When he was out of earshot Strange shook his head.

"I'm almost going to be sorry when he's well. He's very good company."

Tony took a sip of his coffee, but nodded.

"Yes. He is."

"You're going to miss having him around, I imagine."

"He owes me $17,000 dollars. I'll have him mowing my lawn all summer to work it off."

"Do you even _have_ a lawn?"

"I'll grow one."

Stephen was amused and allowed it to show.

"He wants to be an Avenger, you know?"

"Yeah."

"I'd like to spend some time with him."

"Oh?"

"The boy has talents, Tony. Wong is impressed with how he fought off Loki – not the _physical_ part – although he survived a pretty good beating – but the fact that he was able to recognize the mental aspect and slip his grip. This spider sense thing that Ned calls it might be worth pursuing."

"He's going to be an _Avenger_ , Stephen."

"I know. _He_ knows. Like I said, it's what he wants to be, and I wouldn't think of standing in the way of that. I just want some of his time. You know, in between mowing lawns."

Tony studied him for a moment and then finally shrugged.

"He lives in the city. It wouldn't be too hard to set something up, I suppose. Maybe while he's remodeling the Sanctum to turn it into a movie theater."

Strange smiled.

"I'll win the Sanctum back in a poker game if I need to."

"I hope not. I'd like a tour, and Peter would be willing to show it off, I imagine."

"Come by any time and I'll show you around, myself."

"I'll hold you to that."


	63. Chapter 64

"Damn, kid. What happened to _you_?"

Peter looked up and saw in the mirror that a man was standing behind him. Not someone he knew, which was no surprise, but clearly one of the truckers that patronized the truck stop regularly. He was large, wore jeans and a tight fitting sweatshirt with the name of a trucking company on it and a green hat that was advertising tractors.

"What do you mean?" Peter asked the reflection, curiously.

The man waved his hand at the boy.

"It looks like you got the crap kicked out of you."

"Oh." Peter looked at his reflection in the mirror, seeing it as a stranger might. He was bruised and a bit pale – even for him. He also looked fairly thin, which wasn't surprising considering he knew he'd lost a little weight from being so sick. "I fell down the stairs."

The man frowned, and Peter smelled alcohol on his breath when he spoke next.

"You _sure_?"

"Yeah. I can be clumsy sometimes."

"You hit your _face_ on the steps?"

"Yeah."

Peter wasn't a good liar, and it _wasn't_ the best cover story to begin with, and the man clearly wasn't convinced.

"Are you in some kind of _trouble_?" he asked. "My brother's a deputy sheriff in Georgia. You can tell me."

Peter shook his head.

"I'm fine, really."

He reached for the paper towels and dried his hands, but the man blocked his way to the door, his expression genuinely concerned.

"You're with them other two guys?"

"Yeah."

"One of them your pa?"

"No."

The door opened and another stranger entered, and frowned at what looked like a confrontation.

"What's going on, Paul? We gotta get going."

"This kid's in trouble," the first man told his friend.

"No, I'm not," Peter said, suddenly realizing that things were getting out of hand. "I'm _fine_. Really."

"Those guys _tell_ you to say that?" the man called Paul asked.

"No. They're my friends."

"He's with those other two guys," the first explained to his friend. "Look at his face. Looks like someone beat him up."

"Boys get into fights."

The man took Peter's hand before he had a chance to pull away.

"You see any bruises on his knuckles? He wasn't in no fight. Someone's been beating on him."

"I'm fine," Peter repeated. " _Really_. I fell down the stairs."

He pulled his hand free, and tried to move by the men, but the first one wasn't ready to let go of what he clearly saw as a serious problem.

"Wait," he said, reaching for the boy and wrapping on arm around him to keep him in the bathroom where he'd be safe. The arm pressed in on Peter's abused ribs and the boy gasped as a jolt of agony literally floored him. Neither of them could have missed that reaction, and the second man pulled Peter's sweatshirt up, exposing the bandages that were wrapped so tightly around his belly and chest.

The man paled almost as much as Peter did. There were bruises showing beyond the wrapped area. Along his hip they were a magnificent shade of purple and black. Nothing as bad as the ones being treated with the poultice, but nasty looking enough to obviously be serious.

"Did _they_ do that to you, son?"

Peter could only shake his head, the breath completely knocked out of him by the pain that wasn't stopping since the man named Paul was holding him tighter than ever, probably trying to console him but hurting him so badly that he could feel his eyes watering.

"Go look at those guys, Rob," the man said, mistaking Peter's reaction for fear. "They's been beat to shit, too. Something's wrong here."

The other man looked at Peter for a long moment, and then went to the bathroom door and opened it, looking at the table where the two strangers were sitting, talking to each other and giving the waitress their order.

"They're bruised up, all right," he said, looking at his friend, and closing the door once more. "I can see it from here."

"We should call the cops. They can get this boy back where he belongs and take care of those guys."

" _Please_ ," Peter gasped, trying to free himself from the excruciating grip that wouldn't let him breathe. "I'm fine."

"You're not fine, son," the man called Rob said. "But you _will_ be. We'll make sure of it. I promise. No one's going to hurt you again."

OOOOOOOOOOO

The waitress walked away with the menus and Tony looked toward the back bar, where Peter had vanished.

"Think he's alright?"

"I think he'd rather you didn't barge in on him in the _bathroom_ ," Strange told him, taking a sip of the coffee the waitress had just refilled for him. As truck stop coffee went, it was first class, really. A pleasant surprise.

"What if he fell or something?"

"There's nothing wrong with his legs, Tony."

Strange was secretly amused at how much Stark worried about Peter. Not that it was a bad thing, but the other man was clearly hyper alert where the boy was involved, and probably not aware just how obvious it was. Or he didn't _care_ how obvious it was, which was also a possibility with Stark

Tony watched as a man leaned out of the bathroom and seemed to look right at him before ducking back into the room once more. Two more men went into the restroom, but no one seemed to be exiting. Everyone seemed to be pointedly not looking over at him, and yet still were looking his way. He frowned and stood up. Something was definitely off.

"I'm going to go check on him."

"Do you want me to come?"

"No."

"Tell him I'll buy the Sanctum back for $18,000."

Tony forced a smile, "Real estate in Greenwich is worth a lot more than that."

Before Stephen could reply Tony was walking away, heading toward the bathroom and the small crowd of men that was suddenly blocking his way once he entered the bar area. There were four of them, all larger than him and watching him with varying hostility as they moved between him and the bathroom.

"Is there a _problem_ , gentlemen?" Stark asked.

"No problem, mister," one of them said, not moving.

"Then let me by."

"That ain't going to happen," another said.

There was a movement behind the men and through a small space between them, Tony saw a big guy in a green hat come out of the bathroom. Incredibly, he had his arm wrapped tightly around Peter, roughly hauling the boy out behind him and ignoring the boy's feeble struggles as he did so.

"Peter!"

Tony lunged forward, ducking between two of the men before they could realize what he was doing, and dodging a hand that reached for him a moment too late.

"Mr. Stark…"

Peter renewed his effort, writhing in the man's grip and trying to ignore the pain that was almost paralyzing, forcing the man holding him to stop to regain his grip. Peter was a lot stronger than he looked, even when he wasn't at his best. He couldn't get leverage to free himself, and the pain wouldn't allow him to concentrate on how to make it work, at any rate, but he _did_ slow the man down.

His back to the wall, now, the man holding Peter turned to Stark.

"You step back, mister," he warned. "You're not going to hit this kid anymore."

"Let him go," Tony told him.

"I'm going to let him go. Right to a _cop_."

"Mr. Stark," Peter gasped, his face pale and taut with pain. "Please…"

"Easy, boy," the man told him, his grip tightening, eliciting another gasp from Peter. "You'll be okay soon enough."

"You're _hurting_ him!" Tony snapped. He was focused on Peter, but aware that Strange was now standing next to him. The boy suddenly vanished, and the man looked at his hand, clearly shocked.

"What the _hell_?" Faster than Stark might have given him credit for, the man produced a pistol, which he pointed at Tony. "Where did he go?"

Before Strange could react again, Tony activated his Ironman suit and every weapon the thing had was suddenly active and pointing at the man holding the gun.

" _Drop it."_

The gun clattered to the floor, and everyone in the room stepped back. Strange shook his head, looking around.

"Would someone _please_ tell me what is going on?"


	64. Chapter 65

The truck stop was a zoo, but everything was clearing up. It had taken a little while, but not as long as one might think. None of the folks at the restaurant had recognized Tony Stark, but they _all_ knew who Ironman was.

The state patrol had rolled up only moments after Tony had revealed himself to be Ironman. Apparently the bartender had been told what was happening and had called them before Paul had tried to take Peter out of the place. The trucker had pointed out what he saw, admitted that he might have overreacted to the bruises on the boy and apologized to Stark for the misunderstanding. But not to _Peter_ , since Tony wouldn't let him anywhere near the boy. He wouldn't let the state patrol near him, either, and the troopers didn't pressure him to do so. Now they were discussing the fact that the trucker had pulled a weapon on Tony, when the man apparently didn't have a permit to carry it in the state of New York.

Which was fine with Stark, because he was fuming about the whole matter, and making sure that the troopers knew it.

While Tony dealt with the police and the other people in the restaurant, Strange had gone outside to check on Peter. When he'd moved the boy, he'd simply sent him to the back seat of Tony's truck, and that was where he found him once the crowd started clearing enough to let him by. It had been a long time since his ER residence, but he was more than up to the task of checking the boy's vitals and making sure he'd done no lasting harm.

Peter wouldn't look at him during the entire checkup, even though Strange had purposely used far more magic than needed to bring a blood pressure cuff and a stethoscope to hand. The boy was trembling and pale and answered any question in monosyllables. Stephen wasn't sure what was wrong, and he and Peter weren't close enough for him to really dig deep enough to ask, or for Strange to give him a hug and tell him it was all right.

His answer to that problem showed up so conveniently that someone else might have accused him of a summoning, even though he had nothing to do with it.

The dark SUV pulled into the parking lot and rolled to a stop right behind Tony's truck. Strange looked up just in time to see Natasha and Steve get out of the vehicle and he went to meet them. Stark must have made a call.

"What happened?" Steve asked.

"Did someone _really_ try to kidnap Peter?" Natasha asked, incredulously.

"It's a bit more complex than that," Strange answered. "Tony is inside, talking to all parties involved."

"Is Peter alright?" She asked.

Strange hesitated.

"He's shaken. The man who grabbed him hurt his ribs, but I don't believe he aggravated the damage already done to them. I'll keep an eye on him and if needed we'll do some new x-rays."

"I'll go see if Tony needs me," Steve said.

"See if you can calm him down," Strange told him. "Peter wasn't the only one shaken by this."

Steve nodded and walked towards the restaurant, and Romanoff turned to Strange.

"Can I see Peter?"

"I think it might do him some good if you do," Stephen replied.

"He isn't hurt?"

"No. I don't think so. From what I understand, the guy that grabbed him was actually trying to save him."

"What?"

Strange shrugged.

"He thought we'd kidnapped Peter and were abusing him. All the bruises and everything."

"Oh."

She was smart enough to catch on immediately.

"So he wasn't actively trying to _hurt_ Peter, he just didn't realize that he was hurting him when he grabbed him."

Natasha nodded and walked to the back door of the extended cab. Peter was sitting on the bucket seat, his head in his hands, his elbows resting on his thighs, but he turned his head when she tapped on the window to get his attention. Romanoff opened the door.

"Can I come in?"

He nodded, moving over a little to make room. Natasha got in and closed the door behind her, shutting out the noise from the truck stop when she did. She could see he was pale and could feel him shaking. Obviously he was still feeling the effects of what had happened. She put her hand on his arm.

"Are you alright?"

He nodded but didn't look at her.

"Yeah."

"Did he hurt you?"

"Not on purpose."

"Did he _scare_ you?"

Peter nodded, still refusing to look at her.

"I told him I was okay, but he wouldn't listen to me."

Natasha put her arms around him, hugging him close. Peter tensed for a moment, but then leaned against her, burying his face against her shoulder. His trembling grew worse rather than abating, but Natasha knew that was just reaction. A different kind of trauma, of course, but one she'd seen many times before.

"You're okay, Peter," she told him, tucking his head under her chin and running her fingers through his hair.

"I just wanted to have breakfast…"

The last word ended with a sob, and Natasha pressed her cheek against his.

"I know."

She held him tightly, knowing from experience that it was really all she could do. It seemed to be enough, though. Eventually his shaking ebbed and the tension in his body eased a bit, but he wasn't in any hurry pull away.

"Want me to take you home?"

"No."

"Are you sure? We should probably have you checked out."

"Doctor Strange already checked me out."

She frowned at the odd catch in his voice, and pulled away. It was too hard to read someone when she was so close, and she definitely wanted to know what was going on the kid's head. His expression was as despairing as his voice, but she only had a moment to notice before he lowered his gaze once more.

"What's wrong, Peter?' she asked him, tilting his head up by putting her finger under his chin and forcing him to look at her.

He shook his head, but Natasha had interrogated far more experienced men than Peter Parker, and now that she had him where she wanted him, she was going to find out what had him hurting so badly. She couldn't fix it – or have it fixed – if they were playing guessing games. And spies hated guessing games.

"Hey. Talk to me. What is it?"

"I'm never going to be an Avenger, Natasha…"

Her heart grieved for him at the total desolation in that one sentence, and the lone tear that trickled down his cheek.

"Why do you say that?"

He moved his head away from her hand so he could look back down at his feet.

"I can't get away from one stupid redneck without needing rescuing. I'm never going to be the one to save the world – or even the neighborhood. Mr. Stark won't trust me to –"

"Come on," Natasha said, interrupting him. She opened the door and took his hand, pulling him out of the back seat with her.

"Where are we going?"

"For a drive."

Strange had been standing near the bed of the truck watching the activity but mainly waiting to see if Romanoff was successful with Peter. He heard the last statement and wondered where they were going. As they passed him, though, Natasha tossed him the keys to the SUV, which he caught automatically.

"You're driving, doctor."

He didn't even object.

"All right."


	65. Chapter 66

_Author's note: I love lazy Saturdays when I don't have to do anything and can write all day._

OOOOOO

"I don't care that it was a misunderstanding," Tony Stark said – again. "That man tried to forcibly remove a minor from these premises and-"

"He was going to take him to the police," one of the truckers interrupted.

"Because he has too many _bruises_?" Tony asked. "That's not a good reason to traumatize a fifteen year old kid."

Steve didn't have any trouble locating Stark. There was a large crowd around him, being held back by a couple of sheriffs, two state patrol troopers and the man's fury. One of the troopers was obviously trying to calm Stark down, but he wasn't succeeding and another was writing some information in a little notebook and alternating between talking on a microphone attached to his shirt and talking to the truckers who were gathered around.

"He was trying to help –"

"How many _drinks_ did he have before he tried to help?" Stark snapped. "I'd say-"

"Tony…"

Stark stopped in mid rant, looking over at Steve, who appeared to come out of nowhere, even though several people had watched him approach. Many of the locals knew Rogers, because he was prone to eat there in the middle of the night, and he was friendly – and not bad to look at. Besides, he was _Captain_ freaking _America_.

"Can you _believe_ this?" Stark asked, waving at the truckers. "They dragged Peter out of the bathroom and tried to kidnap him – and then this one drew a gun on me."

"To be fair, Mr. Stark, you _did_ draw about a hundred on him – including a missile."

"In self-defense," Tony replied.

"I'm sure they were only doing what they thought was best for Peter," Steve said, looking at the truckers. "They probably have boys of their own at home and wanted to try to help."

The men nodded, and Steve took Tony's elbow.

"We'll be right back," he told the troopers.

"No, I want to-"

"Come with me, Tony."

Steve's grip was firm and unless he activated his suit, Tony really didn't have much choice in the matter. He allowed the other man to pull him off to an empty corner of the room.

"You need to let this go," Steve told him, softly.

"Why? Do you have any idea what could have happened? You didn't see fear on Peter's face when he was being dragged-"

"If you care at all for Peter, drop it."

Stark scowled.

"What?"

"Do you _want_ a media circus coming down on him?"

"Of course not."

"That's what will happen, and you know it. Especially with you involved."

It was obvious Stark didn't like what he was hearing, but just as obvious that he was listening. He steamed for a full minute, clearly running possibilities through his mind and finally shrugged.

"Fine." He walked over to the crowd, ignoring the truckers and addressing the state troopers. "I'd like to repeal my request to press charges."

The trooper nodded, looking at the men gathered around. Especially the ones most directly involved.

"You're all free to leave."

"And I suggest you do," Tony muttered, walking away with Steve beside him.

"I know you're upset, but it was the right way to handle it."

Stark just grunted, and put sunglasses on as they walked outside to his truck. Now he could check on Peter and get him some breakfast – somewhere else. He stopped when he reached his truck, looking around. Strange was gone and so was Peter.

"Where are they?"

"The rig is gone," Steve told him, noticing immediately. "Natasha must have taken them back to the compound."

Tony scowled again, but just pulled out his keys and gestured to the other side.

"Get in."

OOOOOOOOOOO

"Where are we going?"

Natasha settled in the backseat beside Peter and buckled her seatbelt.

"Just drive," she replied. " _Not_ to the compound."

"Okay…"

Strange started the SUV and pulled out of the parking lot, heading the opposite direction, his eyes on the road but most of his attention on the two behind him.

Natasha didn't make him wait long. She turned to Peter, cocking her knee up on the seat casually.

"What makes someone an Avenger?" she asked the boy.

"Mr. Stark."

"Nope. Guess again. The Avenger initiative was around way before he was. As a matter of fact, _I'm_ the one who decided if he was qualified to be one in the first place."

"Oh."

"And I denied him."

Peter was shocked, and it clearly showed.

" _What_?"

"I told Nick Fury and the others that he wasn't Avenger material," Natasha clarified. "And he _wasn't_ believe me."

"But… he's _Ironman_."

"So?"

His confusion was much better than his depression, Romanoff decided.

"He's a _hero_."

"Being a hero doesn't make you an Avenger."

"Of course it does."

"How do you become a hero, Peter? What makes a person a hero?"

"He has the suit."

"Clint has a _bow and arrows_ , and he's an Avenger. And I would call him a hero."

"I don't understand."

Obviously.

"It's not gadgets that make you an Avenger – or really even make you a _hero_. It's not ability, either. There are a lot of people who run around behind the scenes doing all the really hard things without recognition – and they're part of the Avengers. Not the flashy part, but just as much an Avenger as Steve and Tony are."

"What does, then?" Peter asked. "I don't know how to do all that stuff-"

"It's heart,"" Natasha told him. "The willingness to see something wrong and think to yourself, 'that needs to be made right'. No matter what. No matter the cost, or the risk."

"But Mr. Stark does that."

"He does _now_ ," she conceded. "But he used to do it just for the glory. For the showmanship. To prove he's smarter than everyone else."

"But-"

"He isn't like that anymore," Natasha interrupted. "Somewhere along the way, he learned the right reasons to do what he does." She smiled at the boy. "He's still not _perfect_ , mind you. But he's trying a lot harder, now, than he did in the beginning."

"So how do I become an Avenger?" Peter asked her.

"You keep doing what you can to help the little guys. When the time comes – maybe when you're older, or maybe even _tomorrow_ – you help a larger crowd. Or a whole city filled with people, or even the world, who knows? The thing is, you're _already_ on your way to being an Avenger. You have the heart for it. You _want_ to help people – and you don't even let them know who you really are, so you're obviously not doing it for the glory, right?"

"It's better this way."

"Exactly. You want to help people. To make things right. To look out for the ones who can't look out for themselves. You have the heart for it."

"But I'm no hero."

He wanted to be one so badly, she could tell.

"Why not?"

"You heard what happened."

"Today?"

"Yeah."

"Sometimes heroes have off days."

"They get sick, beat up, and then kidnapped by hillbillies?"

"They have off days," Natasha repeated. "We all have them, believe me. One good thing about having a group of people like _us_ ," and she emphasized the pronoun. "When one of us is having a bad day the others step up and take over. Or just be there with a shoulder to lean on. Just keep being yourself, Peter. You'll get there some day."

He stared out the window, watching the scenery go by, clearly thinking about what she'd told him. Strange met Natasha's gaze in the rearview mirror, and gave her an approving look that made her smile – and made her somewhat glad that she hadn't killed him for Stark, after all.

"Home?" Strange asked.

"There's no hurry," Natasha said, thinking that the drive might help restore Peter's equilibrium a bit more. "Let's just drive for a while."


	66. Chapter 67

Tony was waiting for them when the SUV pulled up the lane that led to the Avenger's facility. He hadn't been worried when they weren't at the compound when he and Steve had returned, only because the SUV had a tracker and he'd been able to follow its progress, but it was well after 11am and he had started to wonder what, if _any_ , destination they'd had in mind since the car was everywhere.

The clear morning had given way to clouds and rain, but he had an umbrella and was still wearing the sweatshirt he'd started his morning in, so he was fine. Just impatient to check on Peter and make sure for himself that there hadn't been any damage done.

Strange was driving when they stopped next to Stark, with Natasha sitting in the front beside him. Peter's morning had finally taken its toll and he'd fallen asleep with his head resting against the window, lulled by the drone of the engine and the peacefulness of nothing more dangerous than a Monday morning drive. When she noticed he was asleep, Natasha had climbed over the seat and joined Strange in the front, making it easier for the two to talk.

It had been enlightening for both of them.

"Did you stop for take-out?" Tony asked, when Strange turned off the engine and opened the door.

"I _wish_ ," the other man said. "I'm starved."

"We just drove around for a while," Romanoff told him, getting out of the SUV. "It was peaceful."

Tony looked over her shoulder into the back seat and saw their sleeping passenger.

"Is he okay?"

"I think so."

"Wake him up and bring him to his room so I can change the poultice, Tony," Strange ordered, an umbrella big enough for two appearing in his hand. He walked over to Natasha and shared with her. She smiled and looked at Stark.

"Do you want help?"

"No. I got him."

"We'll feed him and see how he feels," Strange added. "If he wants to sleep, let him. Otherwise find something to keep him occupied – and out of the rain, please."

"Maybe we'll play chess," Stark deadpanned.

"That's up to you. I suppose he'd enjoy owning this place. He could turn it in to a drive in."

"Or… we'll play for _candy_."

Stark shooed them on their way and turned to the back of the SUV. Peter hadn't woken, but when Tony reached out and shook his shoulder, he opened his eyes, looking around with a little confusion. Then he focused a little more, realizing who was hovering over him.

"Hey…"

"Hi."

Tony's hand went to his forehead, then along his cheek, testing for fever and just making sure he was okay. He was warm, but not burning up.

"How do you feel?"

"A bit sore," Peter admitted.

"Headache?"

"Yeah."

"Ribs?"

"Yeah."

"Stephen wants to change that dressing. Then we'll get some lunch, okay?"

The boy nodded, and Stark helped him ease out of the seat, then put an arm around his shoulder as they walked, holding him tight to keep him under the umbrella – and because he wanted him close. Peter leaned unsteadily against him, his own arm around Tony and his hand gripping the man's sweatshirt to keep his balance as well as he could. The walk to his quarters was almost painfully slow, but it gave Tony a chance to reassure himself that the boy wasn't hurt any more now than he had been that morning, and it gave Peter the chance to work out some kinks from sleeping in the back of the SUV.

"I can't take you _anywhere_ ," Tony told him, tightening his grip on Peter a little to let him know he wasn't serious.

Startled, Peter looked up at him. Stark winked, and the boy relaxed a little.

"It wasn't my fault. I tried to-"

"It wasn't your fault, at all," Tony said, interrupting him with another squeeze. "Did he hurt you?"

"No."

"You're sure?"

"I think so."

"We'll have Stephen double check when he gets the goo off, okay?"

"Yeah."

The rest of the walk was in silence, but they were both okay with that. Peter leaned a bit more on him when they went up the stairs, and Tony took more of his weight with each step, but they made it without incident. And found Strange waiting for them in Peter's room. The doctor was sitting on the couch, and rather than get up, he simply motioned for Peter to take a seat on the coffee table in front of him.

Tony sat beside Strange, who helped Peter pull the sweatshirt and t-shirt off, and with only the slightest of gestures the bandages and dried poultice were gone, once more revealing the bruises. Both men leaned forward, obviously looking for any new harm from the morning's mishap, and Strange scowled when Tony blocked his light.

"Do you _mind_?"

"Sorry."

Stark winked at Peter, who smiled, but then winced when the doctor started running his fingers along the boy's sides. Strange noticed immediately, of course.

"Hurts?"

"Yeah."

"One to ten?"

"Seven?"

"Is that about right?" Tony asked.

Strange ignored the question, and went back to his examination, watching Peter's reaction as he felt his way along the boy's ribcage and sides and then his belly.

"I don't see any new bruising," he finally said, holding a hand out for the poultice pot to appear in. "You probably aggravated the ones you already have a bit, but the bandages most likely protected you from anything too serious. No setbacks."

Peter nodded, but Tony didn't look convinced.

"You're sure?"

"Yes."

"They look _blacker_ , and I don't think that one was so purple last time…"

Strange counted to ten.

"They're going to change colors as they heal. You know that."

"I'm just saying, they-"

"Why don't you go save us a place to sit in the lounge?" He interrupted. "I'll take care of this, and then we can get something to eat."

And that would get him out of his hair.

"Fine." He wasn't fooled for a moment, but he was willing to leave, now that he was sure Peter wasn't hurt. He stood up. "Don't dawdle."

When the door closed, Strange shook his head and muttered something about amateurs before he started smearing Wong's poultice onto the bruising once more. It was clear to Peter, though, that he was more amused than annoyed. When he finished, however, he was completely serious when he looked up at Peter as he taped down the new bandages.

"Let me know if anything starts hurting more than before, okay? He's a mother hen, but he's right to be concerned. Just don't tell him I said that." They had all seen how tightly the trucker had been holding Peter, and how much it had hurt. "We'll want to take care of anything that comes up before it becomes a problem."

"I will."

Strange put his hand on the boy's forehead, then ran both along his cheeks and under his chin and along his jawline.

"The fever concerns me a little, too. Let's try to knock it back with some pills. A little is a good thing, but too long and it could be more serious."

"Thanks."

Strange nodded, and handed him his shirt.

"You're welcome. Nothing too strenuous today, okay?"

"I don't think I'd be up to it," Peter admitted.

"I hope you're up to playing some chess," he was told. "I happen to know that Tony is going to challenge you to a game or two – and I'd appreciate it if you'd thrash him."

"I'll try."

"Good. Let's go eat. You must be hungry."

He was.


	67. Chapter 68

" _Check_."

Tony leaned back in his chair, his expression smug as he watched Peter look down at the board between them. The boy didn't even hesitate. He moved the bishop that he'd held in reserve, captured the black queen and looked up at Stark.

"Mate."

"What?"

Tony went from smug to vexed in what had to be record time. He studied the board, trying to find an out for his king and finally sighed.

"And _that's_ the Quinjet," Natasha said, clearly amused.

"We didn't actually _shake_ on it," Tony objected.

"Verbal contracts are valid in the state of New York," Strange told him.

"You're not helping, Stephen."

There was a small crowd in the lounge, sitting around the table that Peter and Stark had planted themselves at with the chessboard willingly produced by Strange. Tony had challenged the boy almost before he had finished the last bite of his lunch, pointing out that while he was sure Stephen was a very capable doctor and a brilliant brain surgeon, chess was best reserved for people who had foresight and tactical skills. _Superheroes_ , for example.

Peter had won the first game easily, much to Strange's amusement, and after that it was a disaster for Tony. Stark had an ego the size of the planet, and he just couldn't admit that there was something he couldn't win at. Strange had pointed out that Tony probably just needed more incentive to win, and had suggested a small wager. Tony had put up a candy bar against the five dollars Strange owed to peter. And had quickly lost that, as well.

By then Natasha had joined them, and having an audience only spurred Tony to try harder. Yes, Peter was a _kid_ , but he had to learn that chess was for adults, and he'd teach him how to play checkers someday. The only problem with that was that the kid was much better than he was at chess. And Tony couldn't accept it. Or admit it.

Banner had joined them as well, because he liked to play chess and was half tempted to take Peter on once he knew there was someone who was actually pretty good at the game in the compound, and Pepper had stopped by to talk to Stark but had been engrossed in the 'lesson' as well, and had seated herself beside Tony to watch. That had only made things worse, because now he refused to leave the table until he let her see that he could win.

"So…" Strange consulted the paper he'd been making a list on, clearly enjoying the fact that he wasn't the only one to fall victim to Peter's chess prowess. "A candy bar. A fridge for his room. The car of his choice from your garage. Movie night – wherever he wants to go. A hot dog cart. A venue for his Aunt May's surprise party. A pony. And the Quinjet."

"That can't be right," Stark told him, taking the list from him and looking at it. Then he looked at Peter. "What are you going to do with a _pony_?"

"You could always bet him a farm, next," Natasha suggested, rubbing Peter's back. She'd been perched on the couch behind him watching as Stark proved force of will and determination didn't always guarantee victory.

Tony scowled.

"You're not _helping_ , Agent Romanoff."

Pepper laughed, and leaned over and kissed Stark's cheek.

"I have to get back to work. Try not to lose the tower, okay? I want to be able to go home without worrying about finding an eviction notice on the front door."

"Peter already owns New York real estate," Tony pointed out, which made Strange scowl, too. "He doesn't need the tower."

"You should quit while you're behind, Tony," Banner advised. "Just admit you're not going to win and move on to something else. You could always play _Chutes and Ladders_."

"You're not helping, either, Bruce."

"I told you he was good," Strange reminded him.

"I know."

"And you said exactly what I did. It's a fluke."

"I _know_."

" _And_ I warned you not to bet the jet, as I recall."

"At least I didn't bet _Pepper_ ," Tony said. "You lost Wong."

"But I got him back."

Tony looked at Peter, who had been fairly quiet during the afternoon, but had no problem at all saying check and check mate at any moment.

"What do you have to say for yourself, young man?"

"Double or nothing?"

Natasha giggled, hugging Peter from behind, delighted that he was loosening up enough to have a little fun of his own – even though it was at Tony's sake – and Stark hesitated just long enough for Strange to think that he was temped. Which he was, of course.

"No." He finally said, shaking his head and leaning back in his chair. "Like Stephen, I too can be taught. From now on, you and I play Gin."

"Okay."

Banner stepped up.

"I'll take you on, Peter, if you're not tired of playing."

"Watch out, Bruce," Natasha warned him. "You've seen what he can do."

"No," Tony said, moving out of the chair and motioning for Banner to take his spot. He went over and stood beside the boy. "He's all yours. Peter, Bruce is a hell of a cook, although no one knows that. See if you can win a dinner out of him."

Peter smiled, but shook his head.

"We don't have to wager. It's just as much fun without."

"Not for me, it isn't," Natasha protested.

"Don't you have something you should be doing?" Stark asked her.

"Don't _you_?"

He nodded, and put his hand on Peter's shoulder.

"I do, as a matter of fact. I'll be back later. You're okay?"

"He's _fine_ ," Natasha told him. "I'll keep an eye on him."

"But who's going to watch _you_?" Banner asked, eliciting another smile from Peter as they set up the pieces.


	68. Chapter 69

"Are you alright?"

Peter looked up from the chessboard and into Natasha's suddenly worried gaze.

"Yeah."

Steve Rogers looked up as well. He was well aware that out of all of them Natasha was easily the most perceptive and if _she_ saw something it was worth asking about. He looked over at Peter, too, but the boy didn't look any different to him. Bruised, pale and a bit too thin, but he seemed okay. At least he'd been willing to give Steve a chess lesson when the man had admitted that he really didn't know how to play.

Natasha put her hand on Peter's forehead, not at all convinced.

"Are you sure?"

"Just a little headache."

"How little?" Steve asked.

"It's too much thinking," Bruce told them, taking a sip of his coffee. He and Peter had played three games before he quit, and Bruce had managed to win one, proving the boy wasn't invulnerable. Now he was watching as Steve and Peter faced off, but it wasn't a challenge, and didn't require much concentration.

"I'm okay," Peter assured her.

"Maybe we should take a break," Steve said. "Before I get cocky and lose my shield in a sucker bet."

Peter smiled, but shrugged. Like he'd ever do something like that. It was one thing to face off against someone who knew the game and all the tricks, but it was different to play someone who was just learning. It was almost _more_ fun, because there wasn't any pressure to win.

"You've got the basics," he told him. "Now it's just a matter of practice."

"Practice I can get another time," came the ready reply. "You've had a pretty long day, and it's not even dinner time, yet. Rest your head for a while."

It wasn't a directive to go take a nap, Peter knew, but the more he thought about it, the more he decided that a little sleep might take care of the throbbing that was building above his right eye. Maybe he _had_ been thinking too much. He knew Bruce was a doctor, even though he didn't know what kind, so he would probably know.

"Okay."

He shook his head when Natasha asked if he needed help to his room. Strange had left the lounge a couple of hours before, stating that he had his own work to do that afternoon and he'd be back later. He was sure _she_ had plenty that she could be getting done that had nothing to do with keeping an eye on him, and he knew the way to his rooms, now, so he wasn't going to get lost.

"Someone will come get you for dinner," Natasha told him. " _If_ you want to join us, that is."

Which, of course, he did. He thanked her and left, walking slowly out of the lounge and leaving the chessboard where it was. Natasha sat down in the chair he vacated, and moved one of his white pawns back to its starting position.

"You're not going to follow him?" Banner asked, somewhat surprised.

"He said he was okay," she replied. "I have to believe that he is."

"Besides, he'd hear her," Steve said, putting his pieces in their starting spaces. "It's one of those skills of his. Makes him hard to sneak up on."

Romanoff smiled.

"I'll happen by in fifteen minutes or so, just in case he forgot something."

It was one thing to trust your teammates when they said they were okay on their own, but it was another when one of them was a tired kid who was nowhere near as healthy as he probably thought he was.

OOOOOOOOO

It took him longer than he wanted, but Peter made it to his rooms. His head was pounding in time to his heartbeat by then, but he'd had headaches before, and knew it was a matter of taking a couple of the Tylenol that Strange had left and giving himself a chance to rest his eyes. He could do that in his rooms.

 _His_ rooms. Peter smiled when he opened the door to his quarters and wondered if he would smile every time. His own place in the Avengers facility. And pretty amazing, really. The poultice pot was on his coffee table with bandages and scissors, but the bottle of pills was right beside it and Peter dry swallowed four of them as he walked into his bedroom. The couch was all well and good, but the bed was more comfortable.

He froze when he saw the refrigerator that was now sitting on a low stand in the corner near the window. Not a full sized one but a bit bigger than the ones used in college dorms and plugged in and running. There was a bow on the top and when he walked over, he found a note stuck under a magnet with a chess piece on it.

' _You can't become a hermit – Tony.'_

He grinned, despite the headache, and opened it, because that's what you do when presented with a fridge. Inside there were bottles of water, soda and even a few beers – with another note reminding him the beers were for _Tony_ and not for him. There was also a dizzying amount of snacks, meat sticks, cheese, fruits and even vegetables. Peter shook his head and took a bottle of water and walked to the bed and sat down, took a drink to make sure the pills made it where they needed to be and then sprawled on the bed.

 _He_ didn't think anything of the wagers he'd won with Strange or with Stark. They were fun, but completely unnecessary since he really didn't need a pony, or a jet – or even a sanctum. But the fridge did have plenty of possibilities. Especially when Ned came over to spend time with him. It would save a lot of trips to raid the lounge of the snacks there.

He was still thinking about that when he fell asleep.

OOOOOO

A half hour later Natasha Romanoff silently opened the door. She hadn't seen him on the floor of any of the corridors to his rooms, and hadn't heard a hue and cry that would have meant someone else had, either. Seeing the sofa vacant, she went to the door of the bedroom and peeked around the corner.

He was asleep, holding the pillow once more instead of using it, and he looked like crap, but seemed to be soundly sleeping. Resisting the urge to do more, she carefully covered him with one of the blankets from the sofa and shut the door behind her.

The nap would do him good.


	69. Chapter 70

"Peter."

He opened his eyes reluctantly, hoping the headache was gone but knowing that of all the people who woke him, Doctor Strange was the one he could least ignore for some reason. And he didn't even need to shake him like some of the others did. He saw the doctor was sitting in a rolling chair beside his bed, one that hadn't been there before and so had probably been summoned just for that reason, and was watching his reaction as he woke.

"Hey…"

"I hear you had a headache."

"Yeah."

"Bad?"

"A little. Probably too much chess."

Strange smiled, and his hand went to Peter's forehead.

"I hear Dr. Banner managed to beat you."

"Yeah."

"Does your head still hurt?"

"Not much."

"Sit up for me."

Strange had let Peter sleep as long as he could, knowing it would be the best thing he could get just then, but he wanted to have the boy up on his feet before Stark and possibly any of the others came looking for him and wanted to play armchair doctor while he was doing his own diagnosis on Peter. It was a lot easier that way.

Peter sat up, wincing but able to move a little more easily than earlier and Strange had to be pleased.

"You're still fevered," he told him, "but you don't seem to be as sore."

"Yeah, it doesn't hurt as bad."

Strange pulled Peter's shirt off, and the bandages and poultice were gone almost immediately after that. The bruises still looked bad, but when he ran his fingers along them, Peter was able to honestly say the pain was down to a three or so.

"Too bad we can't use Wong's poultice on your _head_."

Peter smiled his agreement and Strange started smearing on the goo with quick but careful movements. No sense hurting him when it wasn't necessary, after all.

"Do you feel up to getting on your feet?" he asked while wrapping the bandages.

"Sure. What are we doing?"

Strange shook his head.

"The rain has cleared up, so Tony decided it was a good time to revert back to Neanderthal times and cook dinner outside, over an open fire."

"What?"

"He wants to barbeque."

"Oh. On a _Monday_?"

"You say that like the day of the week is the _oddity_ ," Stephen said, shaking his head as he finished taping the bandages in place. "When the whole point of becoming civilized was finding new ways to cook your food inside."

"You don't like to _barbeque_?"

Strange handed him his shirt.

"You know… I used to have such high _hopes_ for you. But then you have to go and agree with Tony and dash those hopes into the cliff side."

Peter smiled, well aware that Strange wasn't serious. Maybe he was about his distaste for barbequing, but not about his disappointment in Peter.

"Sorry."

"You'll be even _sorrier_ if you manage to contract E. Coli from half-cooked food, or some potato salad that has been out too long, so try to watch what you eat, please?"

"Okay."

"New fridge?" he asked, changing the subject and glancing over at the refrigerator as he helped the boy to his feet.

Peter nodded.

"Mr. Stark put it in. Or probably _had_ it put in."

Same thing, really.

"I wonder where he's hiding the _pony_ …"

Which made Peter smile, again.

"He can keep it. I don't know how to ride."

"Come on. They're waiting for us."

OOOOOOOOOO

Rather than walk, Strange moved them with his magic. This time Peter didn't stumble when they emerged in one of the many corridors of the facility. One that led to an exit. The doctor opened the door and held it for Peter, who was surprised by how many people were in attendance. He'd assumed it would be ten or fifteen, but there had to be fifty at least. Most of them were obviously military, probably in one of the units that trained at the facility and lived there full time, but there were a spattering of civilians, scientists or techs, and even the guy that Peter had seen cleaning the locker room by the pool one day.

Obviously the barbeque was for anyone who wanted to come.

There were two barbeques going, smoking enough that Peter knew they were in use, even if he didn't see a handful of people around each one, either working with whatever was cooking, or chatting with those who were. There was also a large picnic table that was loaded with all kinds of side dishes – in properly cooled buffet separators, Peter saw, and a table that held all kinds of desserts with coolers filled with ice and beverages at either end. Other than those, there were a fair amount of small, round tables with people sitting at them, already eating their dinner and watching the activities going on around them.

With a flag football game going on in the field, horseshoes in several pits and a volleyball game just far enough away that a stray ball wouldn't do much damage, it was also obvious that there was plenty to keep everyone occupied.

"Cool."

Strange rolled his eyes.

"Right, and when we're done we can go hunt ourselves up a mastodon."

Stark walked over to join them, smiling to see Peter up on his feet, and wondering at Strange's odd expression.

"Hey. How was the nap?"

"Good."

"Are you hungry?"

"Not really."

"Because you don't _feel_ good? Or because you found the food in the fridge and gorged yourself?"

"I feel okay."

"Good. Stay out of my beer."

"Okay" He looked around. "Do you guys do this a lot?"

"Nope. But it's good to be spontaneous. Keeps Monday from being ordinary, you know?"

"I'll bet _Tuesdays_ are interesting," Strange commented.

"It's not that bad. They don't do a lot of drinking, surprisingly. It's more of a social thing, I'd say." He turned back to Peter. "Let's get you off your feet, huh?"

"Yeah."

Stark waved to one of the people standing by the side table and the man trotted over to them.

"Find Peter a good spot, will you?"

"Of course."

He gestured for the boy to join him and when he was out of earshot, Stark turned to Strange.

"Well? How's he doing?"

"His pain is down, his fever is up and his headache appears to be under control."

"Two out of three, huh?"

"Yes. I expected the fever to drop as the pain subsided – since it can be a byproduct of a serious tissue injury – but it hasn't done more than eased up with the over the counter stuff I've been giving him."

"Do we worry, yet?"

"You haven't _stopped_ worrying, Tony."

Stark rolled his eyes.

"Do I worry _more_?"

"No. Let me deal with it. If it's still high tomorrow I'll take a look in the library and see if there's something that can help."

"You mean, _Peter's_ library."

Strange scowled.

"It wasn't _really_ a bet, you know?"

"Hmm… I hear _verbal_ contracts are valid in the state of New York."

"Go eat some potato salad or something, Tony. I'm going to go find a drink."

He needed one.


	70. Chapter 71

Peter had only barely sat down at the table the man had led him to when Stark joined him, sitting in one of the empty chairs that were around the table. Tony handed him a cola that had clearly just been taken from one of the ice chests and had a drink of his own, but Peter didn't know if it was alcohol or tea. He didn't have a lot of experience with drinking since it wasn't something that May did, and not something Peter was interested in doing.

"You okay here?"

"Yeah."

He had a good view of the football game, but wasn't so close that he had to be worried about getting taken down by an errant tackle. He could also see people playing horseshoes, and the volleyball game was even close enough that he could recognize individual players – even though he didn't know any of them.

"I'd advise you don't try the football game."

He shook his head.

"I wasn't even considering it."

He realized that Steve was one of the players, though, and seemed to be having a good time positioning the people on his team before they started the next play.

"Peter!" He and Stark both looked over and saw Natasha and Clint headed their direction. Both were dressed casually, wearing jeans and polo shirts and holding bottles of beer. Natasha was also holding a cell phone, and she sat down in the empty chair beside Peter and held it up to him. He saw it was repeating a video of Spiderman stopping an SUV from hitting a bus. The same video Tony had used to call him out. "Is this _really_ you?"

He didn't even look at Stark for permission. He just nodded. He had assumed she already knew.

"Yeah."

"That's amazing."

He blushed.

"Not really. I just got lucky."

"That's not _luck_ ," Clint said, sitting at the table as well. He looked impressed, too, and Tony practically beamed. "We heard you had some abilities, but that's pretty remarkable."

"Did you eat, yet?" Natasha asked, changing the subject to keep from embarrassing him. She hadn't missed the blush. They could get a demonstration from him later, when he was feeling better and probably better able to handle the reactions from those around him.

"We just got here."

She took his hand and pulled him to his feet.

"Come on. We'll get something. I'm hungry."

If Tony was annoyed that she was taking his company away, he didn't show it. Instead he waved them off, telling Peter he'd save their spot. Stark _wanted_ the Avengers to spend time with the boy – and he wanted the boy to want to be where he was. It'd be a lot easier to get him back to the compound for mini training sessions in the future. The boy had talents on his own, but he needed a chance to learn to work with others as a team, and Tony knew it. It was a lesson _he_ had had to learn as well, and he wanted Peter's experience to be easier than his own had been.

Natasha didn't relinquish her hold on his hand until they'd picked up paper plates and walked over to one of the barbeques. There were several different kinds of meat; steaks, burgers, chicken and even hot dogs. The cooked ones were placed on one side, waiting for people to help themselves while it seemed plenty more were cooking to replace those being taken.

He took a burger and a hot dog both, and then joined a small line of people getting salads and condiments for their burgers or hot dogs, too. Natasha pointed out dishes that he didn't recognize, suggested what he might like to try, and warning him off from one dish that she told him was really spicy.

When they returned to the table, plates loaded with food, Peter saw that Strange had joined Stark and Clint had wandered off. The doctor was drinking a beer and was sharing a bowl of mixed nuts with Tony. He frowned at the plate that Peter set on the table, but didn't mention E. coli. Instead he flashed Natasha a smile when she sat beside him, and continued a conversation he and Tony were having about the people who actually lived at the facility rather than the ones who commuted in each day. The place was as much a mystery to Strange as it was to Peter, and he was learning a lot about what the Avengers were supposed to be doing, and how they went about doing it.

Natasha would add in a comment when she was addressed, but she was focusing on her meal, and Peter did the same. He was hungry now that he was more awake, and the food was good. As far as he was concerned, the people he was sitting with were so much more experienced than he was that he wouldn't have had much to add to the conversation anyway. Instead, he listened, and learned. Which was Tony's whole objective in the first place.

Bruce appeared at the table during a lull in the conversation and about the same time that Peter had finished his food and had just leaned back, enjoying the waning sun and the hum of people around him.

"Peter. Do you know how to play horseshoes?"

"No."

"Come on. I'll show you."

He looked over at Strange, wondering if the doctor would veto the idea. It _looked_ like all they did was throw the horseshoes into the sand but if there was more to it than that, he probably wouldn't want Peter joining in. There didn't _seem_ to be a lot of physical contact. Stephen understood what he was asking and nodded his permission, waving the boy away.

"No betting," Tony told him.

"Can you even bet on horseshoes?" he heard Natasha ask as they walked away.

OOOOOOOOO

As it turned out, the answer was yes. Peter saw money passing hands as he and Bruce walked by the other horseshoe games. Nothing big, they were only dollar bills, and it also was clearly good natured, but it was betting. He and Brue didn't bet, though. Mainly because once Banner explained to him the whole point of the game – which was ridiculously simple – it turned out that Peter was extremely good at horseshoes and it would have been unfair to bet.

It was all aiming. The whole point was to get the horseshoe around a metal post in the sand. Peter had amazing hand eye coordination to begin with, and the practice he had shooting webbing exactly where he needed to go in mid-swing had developed this ability into something phenomenal. Peter hit the ring every time. It wasn't even a contest. And it wasn't very interesting, either, he had to admit.

But then _Clint_ happened by. _He_ didn't play horseshoes for the same reason Peter was having. He never missed. He grinned at the boy when he saw what was happening, and the two started to make things interesting. Not content to simply toss the horseshoe, they'd challenge each other with trick shots. Left-handed, right-handed, behind the back, backwards, between the legs – which was one Clint found out the hard way was not a good idea.

They turned it into an odd version of the basketball game HORSE – which seemed appropriate, but neither of them went past the H. Peter got his because he declined the between the leg shot once he'd seen what had happened to Barton, and Clint got his when Natasha had joined them and pressed a cold beer against the small of his back at the moment he was releasing his toss.

A small crowd gathered around the two, and betting started between individuals in the crowd, but Peter and Clint were enjoying themselves too much to put anything on the outcome. It was quite dark out by now, but there were floodlights on the top of the building that lit up the field and the barbeque area so they could see just fine.

"What are you _doing_?" Tony asked, walking up just in time to see Clint being blindfolded to try a shot that way. He and Strange had noticed the crowd, but had also realized that they hadn't seen Peter in a while and thought they should go check on him.

"Playing horseshoes," Peter told him.

" _Blindfolded_?"

"It's kind of a boring game any other way," he pointed out.

"Am I looking the right direction?" Clint asked, unnecessarily. He tossed the horseshow and smiled when he heard the ding sound made when the metal shoe hit the metal stake. He took off the blindfold and handed it to Peter.

"Are you _kidding_ me?" Strange asked, rhetorically, clearly impressed.

"Try it, Peter," Natasha suggested.

The boy glanced at Stark, who shrugged and shook his head with a bemused smile.

"Last shot of the night," he told the boy. "Make it and I'll let you have cake for breakfast tomorrow."

He knew better than to offer up the tower – which he'd almost said.

Peter looked at the stake and then let Clint put the blindfold on him, making sure he couldn't see. And almost casually tossed the horseshoe without missing a beat. Like Barton, he grinned when he heard the ding and the small crowd cheered him on when he took off the blindfold.

"You are _not_ having cake for breakfast tomorrow," Strange told him. He winked, though, and Peter's smile grew.

"I taught him everything he knows," Bruce said as the crowd dispersed. It was getting late and they all had to work the next day. "That was me."

Natasha and the others left, too, after saying goodnight and telling him they'd see him the next day, leaving Peter with Tony and Stephen.

"Time to get you to bed, I think," Stark told him, putting his hand on his shoulder, cheerfully. "It's been a long day."

"I'm not tired," Peter said, flush with success at that last shot.

"You probably _will_ be," Stephen told him. The doctor pressed his hand against the boy's forehead, and looked into his eyes at the same time, but Peter had no idea what he might be checking for. Whatever it was, Strange let him go and looked at Tony.

"Can you manage without me?"

"Yeah."

"Then I'll see you both in the morning."

The man vanished and Tony steered Peter toward the building, his hand still on the boys shoulder.

"Good day?"

"Yeah, thanks."

Considering how it _started_? It was great. If not for the amount of work that went into the preparations, and the amount of people involved, Peter would have suspected that the whole barbeque idea had been Stark's way of making sure the day ended much better than it had begun. Almost certainly not the case, but as it was, it couldn't have happened at a better time.

They walked in comfortable silence to his quarters, each enjoying the other's company without actually saying it, but Tony squeezed his shoulder when they reached his door, and _did_ give him an impromptu hug, which made Peter smile.

"Get some sleep," he told the boy, ruffling his hair. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Okay."


	71. Chapter 72

For a change Peter was allowed to wake up on his own. He opened his eyes slowly, the early morning sun shining through his bedroom window, but not glaring in his eyes or anything annoying like that. Just enough to let him know that the sun was shining and it was probably going to be a good day. He shifted a little under his blanket, waiting for the agony that he was becoming so familiar with to race through his torso or his head. And was a little surprised that while there _was_ definitely pain, it wasn't as unbearable as it had been and he could actually move without making it much worse.

To celebrate, he sat up on the edge of the bed and waited to see if the headache was going to fade a little. When it didn't, he sighed and went into the living area and sprawled on the couch, careful not to jar the bruises on his ribs and belly. He wasn't really tired, but sleeping was a good escape from the hurt, and the cool leather of the sofa felt good against his skin.

The next thing he felt was a warm hand touching his cheek, and a voice cutting into whatever dream he may have been having.

"Peter?"

Tony Stark was frowning, crouched down next to the couch to be on eye level with the boy, who looked miserable and was warm to his touch. He didn't wince, though, when he opened his eyes, and seemed to have no trouble focusing on him.

"Hey."

"Good morning."

Surprising him, Peter sat himself upright without much more than a simple grunt of pain. He didn't look like he _felt_ as miserable as he looked. Tony touched his forehead, thinking maybe he'd been wrong the first time, but the fever was definitely there.

"You okay?"

The boy nodded.

"Yeah. I must have fallen asleep."

"Yes." Stark got up and went to the fridge, took a bottle of water and grabbed the Tylenol from the stand beside Peter's bed. "Do you hurt?" he asked, opening the bottle and handing it to the boy as he sat down on the coffee table in front of him to get a better look at him.

"A little. Not as much."

"How's the head?"

"A little sore."

" _Worse_?"

"No. I'm _okay_ , Mr. Stark. Really."

"You're pretty warm."

"I don't _hurt_."

Which was, of course, most important to him.

"Are you ready for breakfast?"

"Cake?"

Tony smiled.

"Stephen said you're not allowed to have _cake_ , remember?"

"Yeah."

"So here is your cake," Tony told him, reaching for the small box he'd set on the coffee table when he'd entered Peter's rooms and found him asleep on the sofa instead of in the bed where he'd expected him to be. "Eat it before he gets here, or I'll throw you under the bus and say I had nothing to do with it."

Peter smiled and opened the box. Sure enough, it was a cake. White frosting and little frosting swirls to decorate what was otherwise an unremarkable piece of cake about the size of a tissue box.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome. Call your aunt today, too, will you? She called to check on you this morning."

"Okay."

There wasn't a fork for the cake and it had way too much icing to just pick up, so Peter contented himself with just running his finger through the frosting and tasting it. It was good. But probably _not_ the best breakfast if he had to be truthful. He took another taste, though, because hey, it was _cake_.

There was a gentle tap on the door and Strange walked in without waiting for a response. Peter froze, cake still sitting on his lap and his finger in his mouth, icing and all.

"Good morning, gentlemen," the doctor said, walking toward the sofa, his gaze not missing anything. Not the guilty look on Peter's face. The guilty expression Stark was _trying_ to hide, or the fact that it was definitely cake in the box on Peter's lap.

"Peter _stole_ the cake out of my…" Tony trailed off, because he clearly hadn't thought _that_ sentence through. "Easy Bake Oven…"

Strange didn't even bat an eye, although he saw Peter look over at Stark, stunned by just how lousy a lie it had been. Stark shrugged and the cake vanished.

"You can have it later," Stephen promised him, sitting down beside Tony on the coffee table. Now his gaze was only for the boy. "How do you feel?"

"He says he doesn't hurt as much today," Tony said before Peter could.

"Headache?"

"Not as bad," Tony reported.

Strange scowled, and looked over at Stark.

"Do you mind?"

"He's pretty warm, though."

Tony wasn't even apologetic, but Strange was already reaching out to touch Peter's forehead. And frowned.

"You're right. He _is_ warm." His gaze met Peter's gaze with his own, looking at his eyes for a moment in that intense way he had. "I'm going to ask you, Peter – and _Tony_ , if you so much as open your mouth, you're going to be swimming laps naked – how much do you hurt right now?"

"I don't," Peter told him, honestly. "Maybe a three, if that."

"Your head?"

"A three."

Strange sighed, and sat back for a moment, looking at the boy a long time before he looked at Stark who had wisely allowed Peter to answer.

"I think we need to take a field trip."

"Oh?"

"The fever isn't going down, if anything it's getting worse."

"Why?"

"Fevers usually mean infection. But he doesn't have one. The nutmeg thing is over – so _that_ can't be the cause. I must be missing something, and that means I need to do some research. Research without bouncing back and forth to check on Peter or ask him questions."

"You want to take him to the _Sanctum_."

"Yes."

Tony looked at Peter, and then back at Strange.

"Okay. When do we leave?"

If Stark's ready acceptance surprised him, Strange didn't show it.

"Now."

The three of them vanished.


	72. Chapter 73

They appeared in an entranceway an instant later, and Peter and Tony both looked around with interest.

"Where are we?" Peter asked, hearing his voice echoing in the large area.

"The Sanctum Sanctorum," Strange told him. In the dim light, Peter decided that he looked a lot more sinister than he did hanging out at the barbeque, or even sitting on the coffee table in his room.

"But what _is_ it?"

"You accepted it as a bet and didn't even know what it is?" Tony asked.

"I accepted a pony from you and I don't know how ride," Peter pointed out.

"This is my home," Strange told him.

" _Was_ your home," Tony reminded him, also looking around with interest. "Now it's Peter's."

"You live here?" Peter asked, curiously. It looked more like a museum than a home, really, and just felt old. Not to mention, the same feeling that he had when Strange did something magical was almost constantly barraging him here. It wasn't painful, it wasn't even annoying, but he was made aware that it wasn't an ordinary place.

"Wong does as well," Stephen confirmed. "There are libraries, the dining room, living room, this foyer and the kitchen on this floor, personal quarters and guest rooms on the next and the meditation chamber, the mystical library and most of the artifacts are on the third."

"You have more than one library?" Tony asked.

"Of course."

"What kind of books?" Peter asked.

"Anything you can think of," Strange told him. "Come with me. I'll give you a quick tour and find us some breakfast." He looked at Stark specifically, but was talking to both of then when he spoke next. "Some of the items here can be dangerous. Try not to touch anything without permission."

"Can I see the library?" Peter asked.

"You won't be able to understand many of the books there. Some are from other worlds, some are from other countries and most are in languages that aren't English – or even in use, any longer."

Which was only more fascinating, really. Even Stark couldn't hide his interest, but Strange knew that Tony was like him when it came to knowledge – the more the better. And nothing beat a book when it came to learning. Which was the whole point of bringing them there.

"It's okay," Peter said, shrugging. "It'd still be interesting."

"Sure."

Wong appeared, then, and gave Stark and Peter both a bow.

"We meet again," he told Peter with a slight smile.

"Hi, Wong."

"How are you feeling, Peter?"

"Better. Thanks for that green stuff."

"It worked?"

"Yeah. The bruises are still there, but they don't hurt."

"I'm glad to hear it." He looked at Strange. "Are they going to be here long?"

"Not long enough to need rooms, but definitely for the day, I think. I brought them here before breakfast, so we'll want to feed them."

Wong nodded.

"Come with me, Peter. I'll show you around on the way to the kitchen."

Peter nodded, remembering that when they had initially met, Wong had called himself a librarian. Who better to give him a tour of this place, really? He walked off with Wong, who immediately started explaining the history of the building they were in, and the purpose that it served.

"Impressive place," Tony remarked, not leaving the foyer yet.

"Yes, it is," Strange agreed, not even trying to hide the pride that he had in the place where he lived.

"Figure out what's going on with Peter and I'll buy it from him and sell it back to you at a good rate."

Strange shook his head.

"Come on, let's go get something to eat."

OOOOOOOO

Wong knew the sanctum, as he called it, intimately and was more than willing to share that knowledge with the boy walking beside him. He was already interested in Peter, as Strange had told Tony, and had been hoping for a chance to have a talk with him and learn more about him. The fact that he was in the building was the perfect opportunity, and he wouldn't pass it up.

Even as he explained a few of the lesser artifacts that they passed by on their way to the kitchen, he was also asking Peter questions about himself. Nothing too intrusive to start with, just basic questions that he knew would give him a base to know what the next set would be that he'd want to ask. Peter answered him honestly; he didn't have anything to hide and was a little flattered that the man seemed interested enough to want to ask. He was sure there were plenty of other things he could be doing. Especially in a place like this.

Stark and Strange caught up to them right before they entered the kitchen, and Peter was almost disappointed at how ordinary it was. He had assumed a place like this would have some kind of magic kitchen, with meals cooking themselves, or potatoes being peeled in midair. Nothing of the sort. It was a regular kitchen, with a marble topped island and the usual appliances. However, there _were_ definite advantages to being a sorcerer when it came to the kitchen.

Wong settled Peter and Tony in stools at the island, where Stephen joined them, and simply asked what they wanted for breakfast. They all chose something different, but when Wong opened the fridge, each item was there for the cooking. Whether it had been before the request was made or not. Peter watched Wong cook while Strange gave Tony a bit of history of the place – almost exactly what Wong had told Peter on their walk.

"What kind of artifacts do you have here?" Peter asked. "Anything from Area 51?"

"Area 51 wishes," Wong replied before Stephen could answer.

The doctor smiled.

"I hate to sound mysterious but there are so many I couldn't even begin to tell you. And you wouldn't understand it without seeing it – if even then. When we're done eating you can look around a little more. I want to do some research in the library."

"Can I help?"

"No. Sorry. These are books that aren't in English, and pretty advanced."

"Wouldn't you be better off with Gray's Anatomy or something?" Stark asked, nodding a thank you to Wong when he brought over a plate that had bacon and eggs and an English muffin on it.

"I've read that."

"And?"

"And it's not the reference book I need this time."

"Why not?" Peter asked, curiously. As far as he knew, it was pretty much on every doctor's list – and if he remembered right, there was even a TV show about it.

"Because Wong didn't find your poultice in Gray's Anatomy, and I'm not going to find the reason for your fever there, either."

"Where did you find the poultice?" Peter asked Wong.

"In a spell book."

"Really?"

The man nodded, and handed Peter a plate with a stack of pancakes and sausages on it.

"It is a very old book, but I remembered seeing something in it that I thought might help."

"He's a pretty handy guy, Peter," Tony said, buttering his English muffin. "You probably should have kept him when you had the chance."

"What do you mean?" Wong asked.

"Nothing," Strange said, quickly, scowling at Stark which made Peter smile. "Is that oatmeal done ywt?"


	73. Chapter 74

"Wow…"

He seemed to be saying that a lot but he couldn't think of anything else _to_ say. Peter looked around the library, completely impressed. Again, the books were old, the place was old and it just felt like there was something perpetually magical going on here in this room. They'd gone here after breakfast, guided by Wong and Strange through one library on the main floor, which Peter and Stark had assumed was their initial destination, but Strange had said that the books he wanted weren't in that room, they would need to go deeper into the mysteries. Whatever _that_ meant.

Peter walked over to one of the many book cases, figuring that even if he couldn't read the spines, he'd at least be able to see what writing from another world might look like. But most of the books weren't labeled – at least not on the spine like regular books were. Some weren't even books, they were papers in rolls, tied with ribbons of various colors.

"How do you know what one you're looking for?" Peter asked Wong, who had come to stand beside him. Probably to make sure he wasn't going to touch something and get it dirty. "None of them are labeled."

"It's a matter of learning," Wong replied, as Stark walked over to stand beside Peter, also interested in the books of the library. "You remember which one is which after a while."

Peter shook his head.

"You'd think there'd be a better system."

Strange had pulled a book from a different shelf, but he heard the comment.

"The system works for us – and keeps those who would seek knowledge not intended for them away from whatever truths they might be looking for."

"Can't find the evil spell book if you can't tell it from the good one?" Tony hazarded.

"Exactly." Strange sat down at one of the tables in the room, the book open in front of him. "Look around, but don't touch a book without asking, okay?"

"Sure."

Peter and Stark walked down the length of the book shelf and Peter realized that he was able to 'feel' each of the books as they walked by. Some of them, anyway. He went back to the start of the shelf, and lifted his hand toward the first book, but didn't touch it.

"Are the bad books mixed with the good ones?'' he asked, turning to Strange.

"There's no such thing as a bad book," the doctor told him without looking up from what he was reading.

"But some are… what? _Evil_? More dangerous?"

"Some have spells that could level cities, if not worlds. Or decimate entire populations."

"And they're mixed in with the ones that have beneficial spells?"

"Much of the time, yes."

"Check this out, Mr. Stark," Peter said, holding his hand where it was, closest to the first book. " _Good_." He moved his hand to the next, again not touching it. " _Good_." The next. "This one is _not_ good. But this one isn't good or bad. More neutral."

"How do you know that?" Tony asked, curiously.

"They feel different."

"You're not _touching_ them, Peter."

"I don't have to. I can feel them."

Stark rolled his eyes, wondering if the fever was addling the boy's mind, but Wong had been watching as Peter demonstrated the whole good, good, bad thing. He looked at each book Peter had described, and then at the boy.

"Continue."

Peter nodded, and went the length of the book shelf.

"Good. Bad. Bad. Neutral. Neutral. Good. Good. Good. Good. Bad. _Really_ bad. Bad. Neutral. Good." He stopped at the next one. " _Really_ good. It tingles so much I can almost feel my teeth vibrating."

"And you _feel_ this?" Wong asked.

"Yeah."

Strange had watched the demonstration from his chair.

"With those _Spider Senses_ as Ned calls them?"

"I think so, yes."

"If it feels wrong to you, then do not touch it," Wong told him. "The others are safe for you to look at."

"Find me a book to read, Peter," Tony said, walking over to sit at the table beside Strange. The books were interesting, but he didn't feel anything coming from them, and he wanted to check one out.

The boy looked at Wong for permission and pulled the one that felt really good off the shelf and took it over to Stark, who opened it, curiously.

"Hey! Good choice. It's English."

Peter beamed and went back to looking around, leaving Tony to his own exploration and Strange to his research. Wong seemed willing to walk with Peter for the moment. The boy stopped in front of a display case that didn't have any glass on it, just a rug hanging on a hook. He held his hand up to it, and felt nothing but good coming from it. Before he could reach out and touch it, though, the thing moved and reached out and touched _him_ with one corner of the end of the cloth.

Peter jerked his hand back, startled, and looked at it. No marks or signs that he'd been cursed or anything. He reached out again, this time more cautiously, and when the thing moved again, he knew it was happening and moved his hand out of the way. Only to have it reach further and actually brush against his cheek.

Wong laughed as Peter almost fell backward trying to get away from the thing. To the boy's shock, it actually moved _more_ , taking itself off the hook it had been hanging from and following him, floating in midair.

"It likes you," Wong said, reaching out to steady Peter as he tried to duck once more.

He could still only feel good coming off the thing, but now it was _really_ good instead of simply _somewhat_ good, like it was making an effort to convince him that it wasn't going to hurt him.

Strange had stopped what he was doing, drawn from his researching by Wong's laughter. Stark was _always_ watching Peter, even when he didn't seem to be, so when the thing started chasing the boy, he'd started to stand up, only to be stopped with a hand on his arm.

"It won't hurt him, Tony," Stephen assured him in a quiet voice that was meant only for him. "Watch."

"Is it a magic carpet?" Peter asked, giving up on ducking away from it and reaching out his hand once more, letting the thing touch him. If it _was_ , it was probably only big enough for one person to sit on. The fabric was pliable, and somewhat odd, and the boy felt it practically purring under his touch as he ran his fingers along it, trying to decide if it was made of cotton or some kind of polymer. He wasn't even certain it was _cloth_ , really, but he thought it must be.

Wong laughed again, and ducked when the thing reached out and admonished him with a slight tap against the shoulder.

"It's a _cloak_ ," the man told Peter. "Meant to be worn."

"Oh."

That was somewhat of a letdown. He'd been hoping for something incredible. Of course, the thing _was_ floating there, so that was pretty amazing, right? Peter touched it again, almost petting it, really.

"I suppose it's pretty warm."

"More enthusiasm, Peter," Strange told him from his chair. 'It allows the bearer the ability to levitate."

"It can fly?"

"Yes."

"Cool."

The thing wrapped itself around Peter's hand for just a moment before resuming its position in the air beside him, and Peter took a few steps away from the display, wondering what it would do.

As if to answer, it followed him, stopping when he did.

"Now what?" He asked Wong. "It's _following_ me."

"It may get bored and return to its display. Just ignore it."

It was pretty hard to ignore a cape that followed you like a puppy, floating in the air just within your reach. It seemed to be watching out for him, though, because anytime he got close to something – book or artifact – that screamed bad to him, the fabric would go between the item and his hand, as if warning him away. Wong, seemingly satisfied that Peter was in no danger of doing anything to himself or any of the artifacts or books in the room, picked out a book and joined Stark and Strange at the table while the boy continued to wander around the room.

"Can I go back to the other library?" Peter asked when he had circled the room.

By then, Tony had given up on the book Peter had brought him. Yes, it was in English so he could read it, but it might as well have been written by someone in the middle of an acid trip, because he didn't understand anything – including what he had to assume was a table of contents. He'd asked Strange to summon up his tablet, and had spent the morning looking at technical specs of the next design he had in mind for the Ironman suit.

He looked up at Peter, but Strange didn't.

"Just don't get in trouble."

"Want company?" Stark asked.

Peter shook his head, noticing that he had been occupied with something that was far more interesting to him than the books were, and didn't want to pull him away from it.

"I won't be long."

"Take the cloak," Wong suggested.

Like he had a choice? Short of tying it onto the hook it had come from, he probably wouldn't lose it until it got bored and went to find someone more interesting to follow around.

"Okay."

Stark watched him as he walked out the door, the rug trailing him.

"Should I go with him?"

Don't get into trouble was a pretty vague command, after all. The place looked like trouble waiting to happen.

"The cloak will take care of him, Tony. Really."

"It's a _rug_ , Stephen."

Strange smiled.

"Trust me. It's a lot more than that."

Tony did trust him, of course. But it was _Peter_ , after all. He hesitated, but then went back to what he was doing. If the boy got in trouble, he'd go get him. That simple.

OOOOOOOOOO

He didn't go directly to the library. There were far too many things hanging on the walls, or in display cases, or on pedestals in the hallways for him to pass by without looking. As in the library, Peter could feel if it was something that he should just walk away from, or something that he could stand close enough to try and study it to see what it did.

He was beginning to classify the things in the sanctum as if he were playing D&D with Ned. Most of the items seemed to be somewhere in the neutral area, whether good or evil. Some were definitely chaotic and he found several that were lawful, even some that were lawful _good_. The fact that some of those items hanging on the wall were clearly old weapons only made it that much easier for his mind to make those classifications. Most of the weapons were completely neutral, but one wicked looking axe screamed chaotic evil and the cloak interposed itself between him and the axe before he even got close.

He finally reached the library and was a little disappointed that most of these books seemed to be of the neutral variety. Which made sense when he thought about it, since the library upstairs was better protected from someone coming in to try to steal things. The items cluttering the place were still fascinating, though, and he and his impromptu body guard made a couple of turns around the room, looking at them before being on his feet just became more than he could do and he looked for a place to sit down for a while. Preferably a normal chair and not a _chair of bloody doom_ or the _stool of going to eat you alive_ type.

What he found was a low slung sofa. The leather was red and the cushions looked soft enough to be comfortable, and when he walked over to it, it didn't give him any indication that it wasn't exactly what it looked like. He waited to see what the cape would do, but it seemed fine with him sitting down, too. So he did, and leaned back into the cushions with a tired sigh.

"You don't have to watch me," he told the cape, which continued to hover protectively near at hand. "I'm not going to break anything."

It ignored him, and he figured that having a one sided argument with a piece of fabric was probably the tipping point of the weirdness that had been his morning, so he let it go. He would have used the chance to call May to check in with her, but he didn't have his cell phone – for that matter, he wasn't really sure where it _was_ – and if there was a landline in the place, he hadn't yet seen it and didn't feel like getting up to go look.

The cloak settled on the back of the sofa, just touching his neck and started ruffling his hair. Absurdly, he decided it was _petting_ him. The thing was still tingling only good at him, and he absently decided it might be neutral good, but probably not _lawful_ good, despite the fact that it hadn't done anything to make him nervous. There was something about it that made him think that if it wanted to, the thing could be pretty dangerous, and do whatever it needed to make its point.

He closed his eyes, and relaxed a bit more. His headache wasn't so bad – still a three or so like it had been all day – and his chest and belly didn't hurt, but his legs were a bit tired from all the walking and he was ready to take a break. He thought that he should probably get up and go back to the other library so the others wouldn't have to come find him, but he decided that if he stayed where he was, they would at least find him in the first place they went looking for him – and there wasn't a couch in the other library. And he didn't feel like taking the stairs, really, either.

He fell asleep still debating, and the cloak nudged him enough to push him over so he was sprawled in a bit more comfortable a position. Then it covered him, tucking itself around him warmly. The boy sighed again when it resumed petting him, this time his exposed temple and cheek, but he didn't wake up.


	74. Chapter 75

_The room was completely white. The walls, the floor, the ceiling. If it was a room at all, and he really wasn't sure. Peter found himself standing in the middle of it and the only color in the room, aside from himself, was the cloak that had followed him around the sanctum. It was wrapped around him, holding him tightly, either to keep him warm or to protect him, he wasn't sure which. He didn't feel panicked, though. He didn't even feel nervous, really. Just curious about what was going on._

" _Peter Parker."_

 _He didn't blink, but suddenly there was a woman standing in front of him where the moment before there was empty space. A woman he didn't know, he was certain. She was completely without hair, but beautiful anyway – or maybe because of it. It wasn't anyone he knew, though, and absently he wondered if it was Loki, trying to trick him, and thought he should probably let Dr. Strange know something was happening. The woman smiled and he felt amusement coming from her. And a lot of magic._

" _The god of mischief has no power in the Sanctum Sanctorum, Peter. In Latin it means Holy of Holies. Even though it is not, strictly speaking, a temple or worship place, the protections of this place would never allow him to do harm here."_

" _Who are you?"_

" _A memory."_

" _I've never seen you before."_

 _She smiled._

" _I didn't say I was_ your _memory."_

 _Good point._

" _What do you want?" He asked, curiously._

" _I'm here to help you, actually. And I wanted to meet you."_

" _Why?"_

" _It's extremely rare for someone to be so sensitive to the mystical world."_

" _The what?"_

" _To magic."_

" _Oh. Yeah. No. It's not natural. It was an accident."_

 _He didn't elaborate, and she didn't ask. Instead, she nodded after a moment._

" _Tell Stephen to find the solution in the Book of Remedium Damnum Majica."_

" _What?"_

" _Can you remember that name?"_

 _She repeated it, and had him say it a couple of times and then as suddenly as she appeared, she was gone._

Peter woke with a start, looking around and trying to figure out what had just happened. There wasn't anyone with him as near as he could tell, and the cloak was practically humming in his ear while caressing his cheek, the magical vibrations at just the right level to be odd and kind of relaxing at the same time. He lay there for a few minutes, thinking that he should go tell Dr. Strange about his dream, and about the Book of whatever it was, but before he could the cloak had lulled him back to sleep.

OOOOOOOOOOOOO

It was much later than it should have been when the three men went looking for Peter. It wasn't uncommon for Stark to forget everything when working on something new, and there was something about the library that allowed him to focus even more than was normal for him. Strange and Wong were similar in that they could become lost in research for hours – sometimes even days – at a time without noticing what was going on around them.

They could have still been in the library except that Tony was considering a communication device that might employ a different use for the AI, and that made him think of putting one in Peter's Spiderman suit as well. Which made him think of Peter. Which of course made him suddenly realize that they hadn't seen the boy since he'd left to find the other library. He looked at his watch. _Hours_ ago.

Strange assured him that if anything had happened in the sanctum he would have known about it, but agreed that they should probably go find him. If nothing else, they needed to get some lunch, and it would be a good chance to change the poultice. A glance at the display case showed the Cloak of Levitation was gone, so the doctor assumed it was still with the boy. Yet another reason to not be too concerned.

He led the way down to the first floor library and they found Peter sleeping on a sofa in front of a large unlit fireplace. Strange wasn't really surprised to find him _asleep_ , but he _was_ surprised to find the cloak wrapped around the boy, keeping him warm. It had never done that for him, before. Wong must be right, maybe the thing _did_ like Peter.

Tony knelt down beside the sofa and reached out his hand, obviously intending to check for fever. Immediately the cloak slapped the hand away, its message quite clear. Stark scowled, clearly surprised. Strange was, too.

" _You_ can't keep him, either," Tony muttered to the cloak, feeling ridiculous for having the conversation in the first place. He reached out again, resting his hand carefully against the boy's cheek, and looked up at Strange when the action didn't wake Peter up.

"Do we let him sleep or wake him up to feed him?"

"He can always go back to sleep," Stephen said. "There are plenty of beds upstairs that would be more comfortable."

Stark nodded, and tapped Peter's cheek, lightly.

"Peter?"

The boy opened his eyes, sleepily, but didn't raise his head.

"Hey…"

"Hey. You okay?"

"Yeah."

"Hungry?"

"Yeah." He sat up and looked around, and saw Strange standing nearby, leaning on the mantle of the fireplace with Wong beside him while they watched Tony wake him up. The cloak shifted itself just enough to wrap around his shoulders like a warm blanket, and caressed his ear. Peter didn't even bother to try and pull away. "What's the book of damnum remedium… um…"

Strange frowned.

"The Book of Remedium Damnum Majica?"

"Yeah."

"Where did you hear _that_ , Peter?" Wong asked, suddenly alert.

He rubbed his face, moving his head a little when the cloak rubbed the same place, helpfully.

"The woman in the dream…"

"What _dream_?" Tony asked, quickly, immediately concerned when he heard anything about dreams, and a bit worried about the way the other two were acting.

"The dream with the bald woman."

Strange came and sat down beside Peter with an odd expression on his face.

"Tell me about your dream."

He didn't remember much of it, and he wasn't completely awake, but Peter told him what the woman had said about mentioning the book to Strange.

"She said it would help," he said, shrugging. "But I don't remember if she said why."

"What is it?" Tony asked Strange. "This book?"

"It's a list of cures for magical injuries," he answered, absently. "Why would she tell you that?"

"I might have heard it wrong," Peter admitted. "Maybe it's something else."

"There isn't another book with a similar name, and no reason for you to have come up with that one out of the blue."

"Who's this woman?" Stark asked.

"She's the one who taught me."

"Why do I get the feeling that you're not talking about _medicine_?"

"Because I'm _not_."

"So let's call her and find out what she means."

"That would be difficult."

"She's dead," Wong added, just to avoid confusion.

Tony looked from both of them and then back at Peter.

"Why are you dreaming about dead people?"

Peter was just as confused, and shrugged, helplessly.

"I don't know."

Strange put his hand on the boy's shoulder, drawing his attention back to him.

"Do you remember anything else she said?"

"Just that she wanted to meet me."

"Why?"

"She didn't say."

Or maybe she had? He wasn't certain.

"We should look in the book," Wong stated. "If she went to all the effort to draw our attention to it, then there must be something worth finding."

Strange nodded his agreement.

"Let me change the poultice and then I'll be right up."

"I can do it," Tony offered.

"I've _seen_ how you do it, Tony," Strange told him. "Believe me, it'll be faster if I take care of it."

The pot and supplies all appeared, but it took Strange a minute to convince the cloak that was wrapped so comfortably around Peter that it needed to move. Finally, it did, and a few minutes later Strange was taping new bandages over the freshly applied poultice. He checked Peter's temperature with a cool hand, and frowned.

"There's food in the kitchen. Will you guys be all right?"

"We can manage," Tony assured him. "Go do what you need to do."


	75. Chapter 76

"What _is_ it with you and that thing?" Tony asked as they walked toward the kitchen.

Peter looked at the cloak, which had apparently decided to hang out with them rather than go with Wong and Strange back to the library. It was once more floating beside him, instead of wrapped around his shoulders like it had been.

"I don't know," he admitted. "It's kind of _neat_ , though. I'm trying to figure out what kind of fabric it is, but it's probably something extra-terrestrial or something."

He didn't know of any country on Earth that manufactured cloth that could float, or move itself, after all.

Tony reached out to touch the cloak, curiously, and once more had his hand slapped.

"Hey!" he told it. "Do that again and I will turn you into a beach towel."

Peter laughed.

"He's not going to hurt you," the boy assured the cloak. "He's my friend."

If the thing had eyes, it almost certainly would have rolled them, but it reached out a corner toward Stark, who touched it gently between his finger and thumb.

"It's got to be _cloth_ ," he said after only a moment, letting it go. The cloak whipped over to the other side of Peter, putting the boy between them. "It's not leather of any kind. Ask Stephen, he'd know if anyone does."

"I will."

"You probably _can't_ keep it, though. Capes look flashy, but they really interfere with costume designs for the most part."

Peter shook his head.

"I'm sure it has better things to do than hang out with me all day. Especially on a school day, when it would be stuck in my locker."

They reached the kitchen and both of them headed for the refrigerator. When Stark opened it, though, there wasn't much to choose from. Nothing like when Wong had used it earlier – which made both of them certain that breakfast had been done magically. A block of cheese and a jar of mayo was not really food, as far as either of them was concerned.

"I have to tell you," Tony said. "I was expecting a little more."

"Me, too."

The cloak tapped Peter's shoulder, drawing his attention, and then flew to the closest cabinet and hovered. The boy walked over and opened it, and found a wide variety of boxed meals.

"Well, that's a start," Tony said, looking over Peter's shoulder.

"I guess the fresh stuff would spoil too quickly?"

Stark shrugged.

"Why keep it in the fridge if you can snap your fingers and have it appear?" He reached for a couple of macaroni and cheese boxes. "I haven't cooked this stuff since I was in college."

"Really?"

"And not many times, even then."

"Why not?"

"Lots of take-out, Peter. Why have them if you're not going to use them?" He looked at the cloak, which was once more hovering by Peter's shoulder. "Where are the pots and pans?"

It tapped another cupboard.

"Thanks."

"You sure you got this?" Peter asked. "I make this stuff all the time."

Tony nodded, opening the cupboard and pulling out a kettle.

"Start looking for something to go with it," he told the boy. "I'm fine."

OOOOOOOOOO

"I don't understand why she would mention this book," Strange muttered, leafing through the pages, carefully. "Loki didn't leave any kind of residual and the boy's never been attacked by anything else magical."

"As far as we know," Wong pointed out.

"The antidote for magical poison might work to help with the fever, but it wouldn't _cure_ him. We'd be back to square one in a couple of days."

Wong nodded his agreement to that, as well. They'd both looked through the book – more than once – but neither had found a _reason_ for the boy's fever, much less a cure.

"The cure isn't here in the sanctum," Wong said. "Or he'd be-"

They were interrupted by a low buzzing noise, coming from elsewhere in the building and Strange set the book down.

"What the hell?"

Wong stood up.

"The kitchen."

OOOOOOOOO

"We could order a pizza…" Peter suggested, coughing as he used a wash towel to try and blow some smoke away from him and Stark. The cloak was waving itself, trying to help.

The man scowled, moving the pot of burned noodles to the kitchen sink to join the three other pans already there. Each containing the remains of what might have been sauce and noodles at one point but was now only fit for drawing on cave walls.

The first attempt hadn't gone too well, when the noodles had boiled over onto the stove and Tony had managed to catch spaghetti on fire. Something Peter wouldn't have believed possible if he hadn't seen it for himself. The second try had produced similar results, only the macaroni had boiled over, leaving no water in the pan. Causing the blackened mess to practically weld itself to the bottom of the kettle. Not to be denied, Tony had tried again, but the noodles that were still hanging from the ceiling were testament that putting a lid on the kettle had not managed to keep the water from needing to escape once it started boiling.

"I've got this," Tony assured him. Again. "Get me another pan."

"I don't think there are any more."

"We can use the big-"

"What in the world are you guys _doing_?"

Peter and Stark both looked toward the doorway, squinting through the hazy smoke to find Wong and Strange standing there, looking at the disaster that had once been a neat and organized kitchen.

"We're making lunch," Peter told them.

Wong coughed.

"Are you _kidding_ me?" Strange asked, walking over to the sink and looking at the mess of ruined pots.

"You know, if someone had _windows_ in their kitchen, it wouldn't be so smoky," Tony pointed out. "And would it kill you to have milk in your fridge?"

A noodle fell from the ceiling, landing on Strange's shoulder, causing the man to scowl and look up. And shake his head.

"Is that spaghetti?"

"Funny story," Tony began, holding the latest box in his hand. "We were thinking that-"

"Is that _cheese sauce_ on the Cloak of Levitation?" Wong asked, incredulously.

"We were going to wash it," Peter said, quickly.

"But we didn't know if would be classified as delicate or permanent press," Tony finished.

Strange sighed, and rubbed his forehead. Now _he_ was getting a headache.

Another noodle fell from the ceiling.

"I need a vacation..."


	76. Chapter 77

"So did you learn anything in your Remedium Damnum Majica book?" Tony asked before taking a bite of his pizza.

They'd ended up ordering pizza and then eating it in the dining room since there was still a fair amount of haze in the kitchen. The Levitation Cloak was draped across the back of an empty chair next to Peter, gleaming wetly as it dried from the cleaning Strange had given it while waiting for the pizza – which he made Stark pay for.

Strange shook his head, not surprised that Stark not only remembered the name of the book but also _pronounced_ it properly. He was a smart guy, after all.

"Nothing that would explain what's causing Peter's fever."

"Why not?"

"Because nothing in it would explain what's going on."

"What do you mean?" Peter asked, curiously.

"It's a book about magical attacks and curing the damage from them," Stephen told him. "The only attack _you_ have had magically is from Loki, and technically it was a _physical_ one – and we've _already_ dealt with the repercussions from it."

"There is no mental _taint_ ," Wong added. "We would have been able to recognize it, and taken care of removing it."

"Your friend wouldn't have brought it up if it wasn't important," Stark pointed out. "So the fever must be magic related."

"It _isn't_ ," Strange said.

"What if it's _caused_ by magic?" He asked the two men.

"I just told you-"

"Not a magical _attack_ ," Tony clarified. He looked at Peter. "You said that you feel a tingling when someone is doing magic around you, right?"

"Yeah."

"What kind of tingling?"

"What are you getting at, Tony?" Strange asked, before Peter could reply.

Stark leaned back in his chair, his pizza forgotten on the plate in front of him.

" _You're_ looking at the fever like a doctor would – for obvious reasons. There's a fever, there must be an infection or a medical cause for it. Wong here is looking at it from a magic attack point of view – someone is coming at Peter with an outside force. Which probably makes sense for _him_. But what if it's just the magic itself that's causing it?"

"I don't see where you're headed. Magic doesn't make us sick – otherwise Wong and I would both have fevers, right?"

"Except that _you're_ not sensitive to it the same way Peter is, right? He says he can feel it as a _vibration_ – good or bad. Look at that from an engineer point of view, because vibrations cause friction, and friction causes…?"

" _Heat_."

"Right. Maybe that's why he has the _fever_ but doesn't feel any worse for it."

"That makes sense," Strange admitted, looking impressed. "I'll do some digging with _that_ hypothesis in mind, and see what we can find."

"Wait a minute," Peter said, looking stricken. "What does _that_ mean? I don't get to come back?"

The cloak reacted to the distress in his voice by flinging itself at him, wrapping tightly around his face, neck and upper arms, obviously trying to reassure him. Which might have been better if it wasn't all wet, and wasn't covering his nose and mouth. But it was the thought that counted, and Strange was quick to add in his own, less messy, reassurances.

"Of course not. Once we verify what is actually _causing_ the fever, it's just a matter of mitigating what it does to you. I'm more relieved that we have a possible explanation since I have to admit I was running out of ideas."

"Relax, Peter," Tony told him. "He knows what it is, now. He'll figure it out."

"Absolutely."

The boy didn't look convinced, they could all tell. The cloak patted his cheek, but Peter didn't even move away. He just continued to look at the others, his lunch forgotten in front of him and his expression bleak. None of them were immune to it, Stark least of all. He got up and moved to the empty chair that had initially held the cloak and put his hand on Peter's shoulder, cloak and all.

"Hey. It's going to be okay. _Really_."

"He's right," Strange agreed. "Trust me."

"I do."

He _did_. It had just been so sudden, and had seemed so final. He nodded, feeling foolish but unable to help himself. He _liked_ the sanctum, and was looking forward to seeing it – and Dr. Strange and Wong – more often once he was feeling better.

"Eat something," Stark suggested, his hand still on Peter's shoulder. "You'll feel better."

Peter shook his head.

"I'm not hungry."

Strange gave him an understanding look.

"Why don't you go lie down for a while? We'll save you some pizza."

"Yeah."

"Second floor," Stephen told him. "Any room with a bed. The Cloak of Levitation will show you where to go."

Tony hesitated, thinking that he should probably go, too, if only to bolster Peter a little, but he wanted a chance to talk to Strange without the boy in the room. The cloak kept itself partially wrapped around Peter, but clearly tugged on him, urging him to his feet and out of the dining room.

Stark waited until he was gone and out of earshot before turning to the other two men.

"We've got to get this figured out, guys. If he has any more setbacks I'm going to have to actually buy him a _pony_ or something to cheer him up."

"We will," Strange told him, confidently.

Wong nodded his agreement.

OOOOOOO

Peter wasn't really paying attention to where he was going, only reacting to the tugging of the cloak. At the foot of the staircase that led to the second floor, he felt the thing adjust itself around him, as if to shift its grip. Then he missed the first step when he was suddenly swept off his feet. Instead of falling – and he _did_ reached his hand out to catch himself – he went _up_.

Shocked out of his sudden melancholy, he turned his head, looking around at the cloak in surprise. There was no doubt that _it_ was the one doing the flying, because he was sure _he_ hadn't gained any new skills in the last half hour. The cloak took him up to the top of the stairs and deposited him gently on his feet, then tugged him the direction he was already facing.

" _Wow_." He couldn't think of anything else to say as it arranged itself back into position around his shoulders and down his back. "Thanks."

The thing just gave him a gentle pat on the cheek and was still as he walked to the closest door. There was a huge bed with a soft comforter on it and Peter went over and sat down on the edge of it, looking around with interest, and still feeling a little thrill at the unexpected ride. There was no doubt in his mind that the cloak had done that to cheer him up, and he appreciated it. The sanctum was an amazing place, and he knew that he hadn't even seen the tip of the iceberg. He definitely wanted to be allowed to return.

He slipped off his shoes and climbed up into the bed, with several pillows to lean into, and the cloak shifted again until it was covering him instead of being worn. Peter shook his head, wondering what in the world Ned would think of the thing, and knew his friend would never believe him if he didn't see it for himself. He lay in the bed, watching the shadows from the window move from one side of the room toward the other and finally fell asleep.


	77. Chapter 78

When he opened his eyes next the room was dark. There was the faintest of light coming from the window, which was enough to allow him to see the ceiling, and he stretched, feeling only the slightest of aches from his ribs when he did so. He hadn't dreamed. Not that he could remember – although he _did_ remember someone shaking him lightly and saying his name, and then a muted conversation that he had been too tired to listen to.

"I was wondering if you were planning to sleep all night."

The familiar voice drew his attention to his left, and he saw Dr. Strange sitting in an upholstered chair next to the bed, lounging with his feet propped up on the edge and a book in his hand. Peter didn't see a flashlight or anything, but he could see that the words were glowing lightly. A neat trick for someone who wanted to read in a dark room.

"I must have been tired," he said, sitting up a little.

Strange nodded and closed the book, and the lights in the room came on. Not so bright that it made Peter wince, but enough to illuminate the room. He saw that the cloak was still with him in the bed, but now it was curled up next to him and there had been a blanket draped over him.

"You've had precious little actual rest lately," Strange told him. "It's not too surprising."

The doctor sat up in the chair and leaned over, reaching for Peter's forehead. His hand was a lot cooler than Peter felt, but his expression was carefully neutral as he ran his palm along the boy's forehead, then his temple and his cheek.

"How do you feel?"

"Just tired."

"Pain?"

"A two, if that."

"Good. We'll probably be able to do away with the poultice, soon." He moved to sit on the edge of the bed. "I promised Tony that if you woke up I'd make sure you ate something before allowing you to go back to sleep. Are you up for that?"

"Where is he?" Peter asked, looking around.

"I sent him home." Strange smiled. "And he wasn't really happy about that, believe me. He'll be back in the morning."

"Oh."

"Ready to get up for a while?"

"Yeah."

He felt good enough that he really didn't need any help, although Strange was right there in case he stumbled. The two of them headed for the door, with the cloak hovering over Strange's shoulder as they walked.

"I don't want you to concern yourself about this fever thing, Peter," the doctor told him as they reached the top of the stairs. "While I have to admit, Tony is almost certainly right about the _reason for it_ , it doesn't mean that you can't spend as much time here as you want."

"It doesn't?"

"Of course not." Strange put his hand on the boy's shoulder when they reached the bottom of the stairs. "A fever with no obvious cause is something to be extremely worried about, because it can lead to worse ailments if not treated. _Your_ fever – even if we don't find a way to curtail it – will make you uncomfortably warm at times and maybe dehydrate you – depending on the severity. So we make sure you're always drinking water when you're here – and maybe put an air conditioner in your room."

" _My_ room?"

He nodded, squeezing Peter's shoulder.

"If the Avengers can spare a space for you, I'm certain that we can, here, as well. Maybe not as fancy as what Tony set up for you, but a place to call home when you're away from home."

"Wow. Thanks."

"You're welcome." He smiled. "But I'll thank you to stay out of _my_ bed, next time."

"Oh." Then he realized what he'd said. No wonder the room he'd fallen asleep in had looked so lived in. " _Oh_. Yeah. Sorry."

"No worries. We don't have a lot of guests staying here, so it was probably your best choice – and the closest to the stairs. I'll make sure to give you more options next time."

They reached the kitchen by then, and Peter saw that the place had been cleaned up from the earlier cooking attempt. Strange steered him over to one of the stools at the island.

"Cold pizza? Or something else?"

"Anything."

A bowl of stew and a loaf of warm bread appeared in front of him.

"We'll save the pizza for breakfast, then," Strange told him. "I'd rather you had something a little more substantial."

Another bowl appeared in front of Strange, who sat down beside the boy and enjoyed a comfortable silence while the two of them made their way through the meal. He was watching Peter more closely than the boy realized, but waited until he was done eating and the dishes had been cleared before speaking up again.

"I have to admit I'm really interested to see what kind of applications your spider-sense anomaly brings to the world of magic."

"Oh?"

"The book thing in the library was quite a demonstration," Strange told him. "But if there are _other_ ways to use it… well, even if you never learned _magic_ , it would be something for you to work on developing. Wong and I are charged with protecting the New York Sanctum, but if something came up and the threat was there, we could always use a hand."

"There's more than one sanctum?"

He smiled.

"Yes. Come on, I'll give you a bit more of a tour and a little more history than Wong gave you this morning."

They walked into the foyer, and Strange gave Peter a much abbreviated history of the sanctums and what they did, pointing out artifacts as they walked by and trying to explain what some of them did, or were capable of doing if activated.

Peter listened, fascinated that there had been so much else going on – even in the city right under his nose – that no one knew was happening. He asked a few questions but tried really hard not to play gawking tourist any more than he had to. It was so amazing to him, now that he knew how much Strange and Wong had going on, that the man had been willing to put any of it aside just to help get him through his illness. He decided that Mr. Stark must have really done some fast talking.

"So you guys are really kind of the _magic Avengers_?" He asked, when they had made their way back to the bottom of the main staircase.

Strange rolled his eyes.

"If you say that in front of Tony, and he starts calling us that, I'll never forgive you."

"Sorry."

"Let's get your poultice changed and get you back to bed. If I know Tony Stark, he's going to be at the door at first light, and I'd like to have you looking a little rested when he gets here."

"Okay."


	78. Chapter 79

True to Strange's prediction, Tony was pulling up to the sanctum almost before the sun rose. Wong met him at the door.

"Am I early?"' Tony asked, noting how quiet the place was, and that no one else seemed to be around.

"The others are asleep," the other man told him. "Please, come in. Have you eaten?"

"Nothing that could be fairly classified as breakfast," he admitted. "I got off to an early start, when the traffic was light."

Wong led him to the kitchen, and asked what he wanted for breakfast. What he _wanted_ was to go wake Peter up and check on him, but he knew it probably wasn't going to happen. Besides, it was better to allow the boy to wake up on his own. Or at least allow him the chance to sleep a little longer.

As his breakfast was prepared, Tony asked Wong about himself, since there was absolutely no information about the man in any databases that he had access to and he wanted to know as much as possible about the people surrounding Peter when he wasn't around.

Wong didn't mind. He understood the reasons behind the questions and had no problem explaining to Stark some of his history. Nothing too exciting, but not because he was trying to hide anything, just because magical battles aside, there was very little to do at the sanctum besides study. Which is what he did best.

In return, Wong asked Tony about himself – for much the same reasons. That Tony Stark was Ironman wasn't a secret, but Wong wanted to know more about the man who appeared to be molding Peter Parker into the destiny that seemed to be the one he wanted most for himself.

They were eating companionably when Strange entered the kitchen, dressed and awake but obviously not for long. He didn't seem at all surprised to see Tony, and simply bid him a good morning as he walked over to the kitchen island. The Cloak of Levitation was in its customary place on his shoulders, now, Stark noticed.

"How's Peter?" Tony asked as Strange poured himself a glass of the orange juice Wong had just freshly squeezed.

"Asleep in his room when I checked on him just now, but the bruises don't seem to be bothering him, so I think we can be done with the poultice.

" _His_ room?" Tony asked.

Strange smiled at the surprise in Stark's voice.

"Why not? We have a lot of room, and if he's comfortable, he might be willing to hang out here a bit more."

"If you get the fever figured out."

"Even if we don't. It won't hurt him. We've discussed it."

"He's good company," Wong added.

"Is that _wise_?"

"We wouldn't do anything to let him be hurt."

Stark had to admit that he knew that was true.

"Can I go check on him?"

"Of course. Third door on the left on the second floor. If he wakes up, bring him down and we'll feed him."

Tony nodded and left the kitchen, and the two men looked at each other with knowing expressions. They both understand the nature of singlemindedness.

"Pizza?" Wong asked.

"Yeah."

OOOOOOOO

The third door on the left was closed, but it opened silently when Tony pushed on it. He headed for the sleeping figure in the bed, but couldn't help but look around as he did so. The room was a large one, with a huge bed and a wardrobe in the corner. There was a large window that allowed the pale morning daylight to filter through the breezy curtains, and the view was good, if not a little boring since most views in that area of the city were fairly restricted by the other buildings.

No TV or video games, but there was probably plenty in the place to occupy an intelligent teenager who loved books as much as Peter did. Even if there wasn't anyone to hang out with him but two men who were a lot older. At the compound Peter had his choice of several Avengers at any time of the day, depending on who was in residence at the time. _They_ were mostly a lot older than he was, too, but there were definite compensations. Especially since Natasha was so willing to hang with the boy. She was always a good diversion, Tony knew.

He scowled at himself for the comparison, reminding himself that Strange had already saved Peter's life and he owed him big time for it. If Peter wanted to hang out with him and see magic, well Tony had to admit the magic was fascinating to watch, and could do so much.

"Not as much as a good engineer with the tech available to him, though," he muttered as he reached the bed and sat down on the edge.

Peter was sleeping soundly as Strange had said, and looked to be fairly comfortable. There was a pile of pillows, and he was holding one against him, and sunk into the rest, with a warm comforter draped over him.

"Maybe we'll get him a teddy bear," Stark mused softly, reaching out to touch Peter's forehead.

The boy was fairly warm to the touch, but Tony wasn't as concerned as he might have been the morning before. Not now that they had an idea of what caused it.

Peter opened his eyes at the touch, clearly not so tired now that he wouldn't wake up as he had the night before when Tony had tried to wake him up to take him back to the compound. He'd argued a little with Stephen about leaving him alone to sleep himself out, but had eventually relented and allowed the doctor to send him back alone.

"Hey, Mr. Stark," Peter said, sleepily, when he realized who it was with him.

"Good morning. How are you feeling?"

"Pretty good." He sat up in the bed, only wincing a little when he moved the tender ribs. "It's morning?"

"Yeah." He smiled. "Are you ready for breakfast?"

"Sure." The boy got up and found his shoes and the two of them walked down to the kitchen, stopping to look at a display case that had a chalice that looked to be made of solid gold. There were a lot of other displays to look at, completely distracting them without the two of them noticing what was happening. They had a good time looking at each item and making up a backstory for each item, and giving them increasingly ridiculous names that had both of them chuckling.

Eventually Strange walked out of the kitchen, finishing a slice of pizza.

"What are you guys up to?" he asked, just as Tony had named the giant grandfather clock near the staircase Myrtle and advised Peter that it probably shot laser beams out of the hands at every hour – just to make sure a person wasn't late for an appointment

Peter grinned.

"Trying to decide where to put the swimming pool."

Surprising both of them, Strange laughed and pulled the boy into an affectionate hug for just a moment, resting his hand on his head - which the cloak did, too.

"I'm starting to _like_ you, Peter," he told him, winking at Stark. "Don't make me turn you into a frog."


	79. Chapter 80

_Author's note: So, day off. Which normally would mean writing as much as I want. Unfortunately I am driving to Oregon (I live south of Seattle for those who don't know me). The next chapter will depend entirely on the Wi-Fi capabilities of the hotel!_

OOOOOOOOOOO

Tony was quiet as he held the door open for Peter to get into the car. He'd been fairly quiet as he'd watched the boy interact with Strange and Wong – and even the flying rug – while Peter had eaten a breakfast of cold pizza. He'd watched as Stephen removed the bandages and poultice and had carefully probed each area of the boy's chest and belly, watching Peter's reaction intently and pronounced him fit enough to not need the treatments any longer. The bruises were still quite vivid, but they didn't hurt, and would fade eventually.

Strange told him to resume the water therapy that evening to regain stamina and had warned the boy not to overdo things, and had given Tony a look that clearly told him to keep an eye on Peter and not let him try too much, too soon. Stark had nodded his agreement, and watched while Peter put his shirt back on, thanking Strange and Wong both for their help.

"I'll probably drop in on you in the next day or so," Stephen had told him as they walked out the door with Tony and Wong. "We'll figure out the headache thing and let you know."

"Okay."

Strange looked at Tony.

"He's going to be at the facility?"

Stark nodded.

"At least through this week. We're not going to send him home until we're sure he's okay – and those bruises fade a bit more."

"Good."

Tony shook Strange's hand, reminded him he was welcome to come by any time and extended the same invitation to Wong, who had nodded his thanks and watched as the two drove off.

Peter assumed that Stark was quiet because he was concentrating on the traffic, which was pretty heavy, but once they had left the city and the crazy multi-laned roads turned into a country highway, there was still no conversation. He watched the scenery go by, and occasionally would look at the man beside him. He looked vaguely upset, but Peter couldn't for the life of him think of what he could have done to cause it.

"Are you okay?" he finally asked, breaking a silence that had lasted more than twenty miles.

Tony looked over at him.

"What? Yeah. I'm fine."

"Okay."

Stark was silent for another long moment and finally he sighed.

"You know how I feel about you, right? That I care about you and want the best for you?"

"Yeah."

If he hadn't before – and maybe there _had_ been some uncertainty – there definitely wasn't any doubt now.

He waited for the rest of the conversation, but Tony was silent, clearly thinking about something that he didn't seem to want to share – or couldn't.

"Are you mad at me?" Peter asked. "Did I-"

"No. Nothing like that, Peter." He reached out and patted the boy's shoulder, as if to reassure him, but went back to his brooding for a moment. Just when Peter was going to ask again if there was something he could do. Tony sighed. "You like that magic stuff, don't you?"

Peter smiled.

"Yeah. It's pretty cool. Don't you think so?"

"Definitely."

"Dr. Strange is a nice guy. Pretty smart."

"Yeah. Wong, too, really."

Another sigh, this one tinged with regret.

"If you want to be a magician, I'll help you in any way that I can."

"What?"

"I said, if you'd like to do what Stephen and Wong do instead of being an Avenger, I'll help you. Whatever you need."

"You don't want me to be an Avenger?"

"Of _course_ I do," Tony snapped. The boy had no idea how much, and Stark honestly couldn't tell him, refusing to allow that to cloud Peter's decisions. He took a deep breath. "But what I want doesn't matter. It's what _you_ want. If you want to try this magic thing, then that's what you should do. I want you to be happy. Even if it's flying rugs, and waving your hands and making things appear out of nowhere."

"Oh."

"So there you go," Tony said, his hands tightly grasping the steering wheel. "If that's what you want, then that is definitely what you should do."

"I might not have the talent for it."

"You can do anything you want," Stark told him.

Now it was Peter who was silent for a long time. Tony glanced occasionally over at him while pretending to focus on the nonexistent traffic, but Peter was looking out his window, and Stark couldn't read his expression. Finally Peter spoke up.

"You saved my life once, you know…"

"Yeah. In the lake."

"No. I mean yeah, then too. So you've saved my life twice, then."

Tony frowned.

"I don't remember-"

"You didn't know it was me. But I knew who you were."

"What?"

"It was at the expo," he explained, looking over at Tony with an odd expression. "The one with the mechanical drones that went crazy. Ned's mom took us to see it, and we got separated when things went bad. I was cornered by one of them and didn't have a chance, and suddenly, out of nowhere, there you were. You blew the thing up, and then took off to go finish the fight."

"That was a crazy night," Tony said.

"It changed my life," Peter told him. "I was still reeling from the loss of my parents, but suddenly I knew _exactly_ what I wanted to be when I grew up."

"A superhero?"

"You."

They were both silent for a long time, but it was Peter who spoke next.

"I can't do the magic thing _and_ be an Avenger, Mr. Stark. But there is nothing I want to be more. Ever since I knew what they were, it's what I've dreamed about. And if I'm good enough, that's what I want to be."

"You're sure?"

"Yeah."

"Then I'll help you."

"You already are."

"I'll help you _more_."

Peter snorted, amused by that since he couldn't see any way that Stark could do more than he already had. They were silent once more, but now it wasn't uncomfortable for either of them. Tony reached out and put his hand on Peter's shoulder, relieved. He had meant everything he said, but he definitely would have missed the boy if he'd taken him up on the offer.


	80. Chapter 81

Not surprisingly, Peter eventually fell asleep on the way back to the Avenger's facility. It didn't surprise Tony, and it didn't worry him, since Strange had warned him that it would happen sometimes while his body was trying to heal itself and had a moment of quiet to make the attempt. It was peaceful to drive with a sleeping passenger, and he had plenty of time to think.

Stark pulled into the garage this time and shook the boy's shoulder carefully.

"Peter? We're here."

He didn't open his eyes.

"Okay."

Tony frowned.

"This is the part where you get out of the car. Come on, you can sleep in your quarters, in your own bed."

He shook his head, still not even attempting to open his eyes.

"I'm okay here. Really. I'll meet you there."

Since he couldn't use the threat of having Stephen drop him naked in the pool Tony had to admit that he was stymied. He tried again, shaking the shoulder a little harder.

"Hey. Let's go get some lunch."

"Later. Please…?"

He might have been able to be a little sterner if not for the actual exhaustion he heard in the boy's voice – and the fact that he might not _be_ so tired if Tony hadn't woken him up earlier than he had probably planned to be awake. Not to mention he couldn't work up any steam after the conversation he'd had with the boy on the way. With a sigh, Tony got out of the car and walked around to the other door, opening it carefully to avoid spilling him out of the car. Instead he gathered him up into his arms and closed the door with his hip.

"You're a bit old to be carried to bed, young man," he murmured affectionately.

Peter muttered something he couldn't understand since his face was immediately buried in Tony's shirt, and with his sleepy burden Stark headed for the door. And met Steve Rogers at the entrance before he had a chance to wonder how he was going to open it. His expression was immediately concerned when he saw Tony was carrying Peter.

"Is he alright?"

"He's fine, just sleepy. Get the door for me, will you?"

"Want me to carry him?"

Neither said it, but Steve was a lot stronger than Stark. There was probably less chance of dropping him on his head or something.

"Sure." He handed Peter over, and then opened the door, closing it once Steve went through. "We're just going to put him in his room."

Tony gave him a brief version of what had happened at the sanctum as they walked, and Steve listened with interest, since he'd never been there before. He had to admit that until he'd met Strange, he didn't even know the place _existed_. He carried Peter effortlessly, and was soon waiting for Stark to open the door to the boy's quarters.

"Put him in his bed, will you, Steve?" Tony asked.

"Is this normal?"

"Strange says it is. He just needs a chance to heal and rest."

"We can arrange that."

"We haven't done so great at that so far," Stark pointed out.

"True."

Tony watched as Steve put the boy to bed and then the two men walked out of the quarters, closing the door behind them.

"Does he need someone with him?"

An automatic question from a natural leader.

"No. Just sleep. I've got some things to take care of, but catch up with me later and I'll tell you more about the sanctum."

"Sounds good."

OOOOOOOOO

Tony made it to his quarters, heading for the main displays in the working area. He pulled off his jacket and hung it over the back of a chair.

"Friday, pull up archival footage."

"Time period?"

"The Hammer expo. From the initial arrival of Ironman until I tell you to stop. All internal recordings."

There was a slight pause while the AI searched for the requested video, and Tony took the time to pour himself a drink and move to the living area of his quarters, where he sat down on a sofa in front of a larger screen.

Twenty minutes later, Pepper found him sitting in the same spot, his drink forgotten while he forwarded and reversed the footage that he hadn't really thought twice about since the day it had happened.

"What are you looking at?" she asked, sitting beside him and taking his drink from him.

"Peter," Tony replied, showing the footage Ironman had recorded, the small boy standing up to the immense monster, holding his hand up fearlessly, pointing it at the drone, who mercilessly activated its primary weapon and pointed it at the boy. He froze it right before his arrival and the subsequent destruction of the machine.

"That's _Peter_?" she asked, getting up to walk over for a closer look. "How do you know that?"

"He _told_ me. Today. I didn't have a clue."

"That's some serious guts," Pepper said, shaking her head. "There's no way he knew you were going to save him."

"I know. Or he was too dumb to understand the danger he was in."

"Either way." She walked back to the sofa he was sitting on and sat down as he reversed the video again, running it through the sequence completely this time. "A born _Avenger_ , huh?"

Tony smiled, softly, and took her hand.

"He told me today that it's all he wants to be."

"And you want him to be one, eventually, right?"

"Yes. Without the danger."

She shook her head.

"That's part of the job description, Tony. You know that as well as anyone."

So did she.

"I know. Which is why he isn't one, yet. He still has a lot to learn."

She looked at the video once more as the crowd ran away and the little boy stood his ground, holding up a hand that had no chance of stopping the inevitable.

"He's so cute."

"Because he's wearing an _Ironman suit_?" he asked, putting his arm around her shoulder.

"Because I can just imagine what he looked like at that age. Little boys are adorable. Where is he?"

"Sleeping."

"Are you going to show him this?"

Stark shook his head.

"No reason to. He's already seen the live version."

He might show it to the others, though.


	81. Chapter 82

"Peter?"

The whisper was accompanied by someone shaking his shoulder, and he opened his eyes. And found Clint Barton sitting on the edge of his bed. Surprised, he sat up.

"Hey."

"Hey. How do you feel?"

"Okay."

"How are the ribs? Still sore?"

"No, not too bad at all."

"Good. I'm taking a group of jumpers up in the Quinjet and wondered if you'd like to come."

Now he was wide awake.

"Jumpers?"

"Parachutists. It's a training exercise for them, jumping out of something moving a little faster than your typical plane. But once they're out I thought we could have a little fun. I _do_ owe you a ride, remember?"

"Sounds great."

Barton smiled, and handed him a bag.

"Put this on."

"What is it?"

"Flight suit. If you don't throw up right out of the gate, we might try some Gs and you'll need it." He stood up. "I'll meet you at the jet as soon as you're ready, okay?"

"Yeah. Thanks."

Barton left and Peter got out of bed, quickly, and looked at the flight suit. It was leather, with an Avenger logo on the shoulder, and he thought it should fit him, even though he was almost certainly the smallest person in the compound.

"Sweet."

Ten minutes later he was dressed and heading for the door. It was impossible to stop smiling, and the people he passed in the corridors couldn't help but smile when they saw him. They didn't all know him – although the barbeque had done a good job of at least exposing him to many people in the facility, and they to him – but none of them were immune to his excitement. He walked out the door and headed for the jet, where he saw several men and women gathered around wearing specialized suits and parachutes on their backs, listening to a man giving them final instructions. Peter saw Clint standing near the front of the plane, with Tony Stark standing beside him. Both men motioned him over to them.

His smile broadened when Stark ran his hand along the flight suit, checking the fit.

"It looks good on you," Tony told him. "Don't you agree, Clint?"

"Yeah."

"Are you coming?" Peter asked.

"No. I just wanted to see you off."

And maybe double check with Clint to make sure how long he'd planned to be gone, and what he planned to do. Not something he would normally do before a routing training jump. But since this one involved Peter, Barton wasn't really surprised Stark had shown up as he was doing his preflight and he had given the other man a rundown of what was intended both before and after they dropped their jumpers.

"I'm just going to finish my preflight," Clint told both of them. "Peter, come in through the back, and meet me in the cockpit when you're done."

He left the two of them alone, and Tony touched the flight suit once more.

"Don't fall out, okay?"

Peter grinned, and nodded.

"I won't."

"And have fun."

"Okay."

"When you guys get back, come find me."

"Okay."

Tony left, then, with a final pat to the boy's shoulder, and Peter went around to the rear of the jet, walking by the others and feeling the excitement rise. He'd never been in a jet before, of course, and he had a feeling he was going to be in for a thrill.

He stopped at the ramp, looking around, but before he could really take in more than the two rows of jump seats, he saw Clint beckoning to him from what had to be the cockpit area. He started that direction, but heard someone call his name from behind him and stopped.

Natasha Romanoff was walking up the ramp, dressed in a similar flight suit, but looking a lot better in hers than he looked in his own. Judging from the glances she was getting from those parachutists closest to the ramp, Peter wasn't the only one who thought so. She walked up to him and gave him a hug, as cheerful as if she hadn't seen him in weeks rather than just a day and a half.

"You're coming?" he asked when she let him go.

"I _have_ to," she told him as they walked over to join Barton. "The rule is two capable pilots at all times, in case something happens to the first one. Otherwise, if Clint blacks out or something, _you'd_ be trying to fly the thing home yourself."

"Nothing's going to happen, though," Clint assured him. "What did Stark tell you?"

"Not to fall out."

Natasha laughed.

"Good advice."

"Take the copilot chair, Peter," Clint told him, pointing. "Natasha will sit in the jump seat so you get the best view. I'm going to go talk to the jump master and get everyone loaded, and then we'll go."

Peter did as he was told, and Natasha helped him buckle himself into the unfamiliar harness.

"How are you feeling?" she asked when she pulled the straps tight for him.

"Pretty good."

"How was the sanctum?"

"It's _amazing_ ," he replied. "All kinds of weird books and stuff, and a flying cloak that lifted me up the staircase."

She smiled.

"Finding a new calling in life?"

"No. It's amazing, but so is this."

Before Natasha could respond, Barton was back and the jet got a lot noisier as the rear end filled with people and one man shouting instructions to his parachutists. Clint got into the pilot's seat and handed a headset to Peter, pointing out two buttons.

"This one lets you talk to me, Natasha and the jump master. This one lets you talk to air control. Don't use that one, okay?"

"Yeah."

Barton put his own headset on, and Peter and Natasha did the same. She sat in a pull down seat behind the two of them, quietly watching as Clint prepared the jet.

"We're loaded," came a tinny voice over the headset.

Peter looked back and over Natasha's shoulder and saw the jump master giving the cockpit a thumbs up.

"No runway?" Peter asked, toggling the switch that let him talk to Natasha and Clint.

"We don't need one," came the answer – from the jump master. "It lifts like a Harrier."

Which meant nothing to Peter, but he was willing to take the man's word for it. A moment later the jet took off, straight up. Like an elevator for just a moment, and then turned impossibly sharp and rocketed into the sky.

Peter whooped, unable to help himself, and felt Natasha's hand on his shoulder. He looked over his shoulder at her, wondering if he had done something wrong, but she was smiling, and so was Barton, who was only watching the skies and his control panel.

"Liked that, did you?" Natasha asked.

"Yeah."

"There's more, but it's not fair to the guys in the back to do roll maneuvers when they're probably already trying to focus on the jump at hand. We'll wait until we lose them before Clint goes all out."

"We're going to go to 20,000 feet," Barton told him. "It's a little higher than usual but these guys are all experienced."

"Aren't you worried about airplanes?"

"We have closed airspace, just for that reason. The radar will let us know if anything comes up – just in case – but it should be clear."

"Besides," Natasha added. "Most commercial planes are at 45,000 feet. Give or take."

Peter nodded his understanding and watched as Clint took the jet higher, and Natasha pointed out the gauge that would show him just how high they were. When it hit 20,000 feet, the jet turned sideways once more, went wherever it was Barton was aiming for and then leveled out again.

A green light came on on the control panel, and the air pressure suddenly changed in the cabin, and Peter looked over his shoulder and saw all the jumpers were on their feet, now, and heading for the ramp.

"Go! Go! Go!" He heard the jump master's voice over his headset and also muffled through the headset. "Miss the box and you're eating cold cereal for dinner."

It happened shockingly quick. One minute they were heading for the ramp, the next they were all gone and the rear of the jet was closing once more.

"Wow."

"It's fun to watch them land, too," Natasha told him. "We'll do that someday."

Clint handed Peter something, and he took it without looking. Then realized it was a barf bag.

"Do not get the Quinjet messy, please."

Peter shook his head, but he was sure he wasn't going to need it. He'd always had a head for heights, and now it was a regular thing for him to be on the tops of the tallest buildings in the city.

Suddenly they were upside down, and then rightside up once more and then spinning crazily one direction and then the other. Clint put on the afterburners and the jet roared forward and Peter felt the movement in his stomach, but only grinned with excitement and looked out the side of the cockpit as well as he could to try to see how far above the ground they actually were.

For the next twenty minutes Barton proved just how skilled a pilot he was, and Peter matched every motion the jet made with yet another excited grin, or noise. It was a good time for all of them, and Hawkeye went all out to give the boy a first ride he'd never forget.

Eventually they leveled out and simply flew a bit, heading back toward the Avenger compound.

"I'd let you try flying it, Peter," Clint told him over the headset. "But the controls are extremely reactive and if you overcompensated a turn you could fly us right into the ground."

"Which is right up there on Stark's do not do to Peter list," Natasha added.

"Is that a real thing?" the boy asked, curiously.

"That the control are sensitive, yes."

"That Mr. Stark has a what not to do to Peter list."

"It's mostly implied," Clint told him.

"It's similar to the list that I have of things not to do to Natasha Romanoff," Natasha told him, patting his back and looking absolutely serious. Enough so that he couldn't tell if she was joking or not. He decided she was serious.


	82. Chapter 83

The ride ended with them hovering above the Avengers compound and then dropping like a rock the final 300 feet or so without Clint giving him any warning. When the engines were shut down Clint stood up and gestured for Petr to unbuckle himself.

"Well?"

"That was amazing. Thanks."

"You're welcome," he replied. "We'll do it again, sometime. We're always doing drills, running practice flights, that kind of thing. No reason we can't take on an extra passenger."

"Think your friend Ned would like to come?" Natasha asked, unbuckling herself as well and standing up to stretch a bit after being confined to a relatively uncomfortable seat for the last forty minutes or so.

"He threw up on the elevator once."

"Sounds like a no to me," Barton said, clapping his hand on Peter's shoulder. "I've got to go debrief with the jumpers. I'll catch up with you later."

"Okay. Thanks again."

"My pleasure."

He left the jet and Natasha and Peter walked down the ramp together.

"What are you doing the rest of the day?" she asked.

"Mr. Stark told me to come find him, but I don't know if there's anything planned. Or even where to start looking."

She smiled as they crossed the grass and headed for one of the doors.

"That's what your communicator is for," she reminded him. Instead of waiting for a response, she tapped her own. "Tony, we're done."

He didn't hear the response through her system, but he did hear the voice coming through his own. Not loud, but he didn't need it to be. Not with his hearing.

" _I'm running behind. I'll be there in a hour or so."_

She looked over at Peter.

"You heard?"

"Yeah."

Natasha tapped her ear again.

"We'll meet you in the lounge."

" _Sounds good."_

Natasha smiled at Peter, and put her arm around his shoulder.

"That means you get to hang out with me. Unless you'd rather do something else while you wait?"

He shook his head.

"I like spending time with you."

Which was absolutely the best answer he could have given her – whether he knew it or not. Which, she decided, he didn't. It made her smile, though, and they talked about the flight while they walked down the corridors and finally reached the lounge.

The place was almost empty at that time of day, so Natasha steered Peter over to one of the sofas that ranged against one of the side walls.

"Sit down, you look a little tired," she told him. "Want something to drink?"

"I'm good, thanks."

"Be right back."

Peter watched as she went behind the bar and started rattling glasses and something in the fridge. He was reliving the flight and just how much fun he'd had, and was glad Clint had thought to invite him. No matter how many times he might go up again, he knew that the first time would probably always stand out in his mind.

Natasha came back and sat down beside him, now holding a glass of iced tea.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked.

He shrugged.

"The flight."

"Good time."

"Yeah."

"We have a couple of simulators here, if you're interested in learning – or even just playing around. It's not _supposed_ to be used for that, but Clint and I aren't above linking the two and having dog-fights when no one's around."

"That'd be fun to watch," Peter said. "Who wins?"

"I want to say that I do," she told him. "But I would be lying. He's a much better pilot than I am."

He laughed at that and they sat and talked about little things for a while, enjoying the company the other was providing. As the adrenaline rush from the flight wore off, though, Peter was once more starting to flag just a bit. Natasha noticed long before he did, of course, and wasn't surprised. She knew he was short on sleep and with the excitement of the day catching up to him, she was more surprised that he was awake at _all_ , really.

"You know…" she told him. "You could take a quick nap while we wait for Tony."

"I'm fine," he told her, instantly. Which made her smile. He even tried to look more alert. And that amused her, too. She'd never had a lot of exposure to teen-aged boys and wondered if they were all as charming as she found Peter to be, or if he was just an exception.

"If you nap _now_ , we can keep you up later tonight," she pointed out.

The thought of a nap was appealing to him, but he didn't feel like making his way back to his room. He shook his head.

"We told Mr. Stark we'd meet him here. I don't want him to have to come looking for me when he gets here."

"So sleep here," she told him. It was one of the reasons she settled for a sofa instead of a table with chairs when they'd arrived in the room in the first place. "You've used me as a pillow before."

"I wouldn't be much company," he pointed out.

"Better than some I've had," she assured him, patting her thigh. "Take a nap, Peter. Then you'll be ready for the rest of the day."

"You don't mind?"

"Of course not."

He did what she told him and stretched out beside her, gingerly resting his head on her leg. Natasha wished that she had something to cover him with, but there was definitely a dearth of blankets and pillows in the lounge, and she wasn't going to go looking now that she was finally starting to feel him relax where he was. It wasn't cold, after all. She put her hand on his shoulder, and absently caressed it, feeling the moment when he fell asleep.

OOOOOOOOOOO

Peter had only been asleep about ten minutes when a motion at the entrance to the lounge caught Romanoff's eye. She looked over and saw Stephen Strange walking in, handsomely dressed in a sharp looking suit but wearing an odd looking cape over his shoulders. She smiled a hello to him as he approached, but then the cape moved – apparently on its own – and flew through the air directly at her and her charge.

Natasha didn't seem to even move, but suddenly there was a wicked looking blade in her hand, and she held it between the cape and Peter. The cloak stopped, hovering uncertainly, and Strange had to admit that the blade had appeared so quickly that it was not only impressive but also a little scary.

"It won't hurt him, Natasha," he assured her as he walked up. "It likes him."

She didn't look convinced, but she did remember Peter telling him about a cloak that had lifted him up the stairs when they'd been discussing his trip to the sanctum. There couldn't be more than one, most likely. The knife vanished, and the cloak drifted toward her, one corner of it reaching out and touching her cheek before it settled itself over Peter. She watched in amazement as it tucked itself around the boy and then was still.

Strange pulled an upholstered chair over and sat in it.

"Fell asleep on you, did he?"

She smiled.

"I had to talk him into it. He had a pretty exciting morning. Clint took him for a ride in the Quinjet," she added when she saw the question in his expression.

"I thought I'd come check on him," Stephen told her, leaning back a little in his chair. "Make sure he's not trying to do too much, too soon. He'll just wipe himself out if he does. Which will hamper his recovery."

"We'll be careful with him."

Obviously. He didn't comment on her quick and clearly deadly response to what had been a perceived threat to Peter. Instead he nodded, looking around.

"Where's Tony? I'm surprised he's not here, hovering."

That made her smile as well. She _liked_ Strange – more and more. _He_ clearly liked Stark, but wasn't above poking fun at him, unlike a lot of people. Of course, she knew he had quite the skillset of his own, even though she hadn't had much exposure to it, and it was a bit easier to be cheeky with someone when you could probably best them in a fight if things went south.

"He drove into the city. He's on his way back, now. We're meeting here."

"You don't mind if I wait with you?"

"Not at all."


	83. Chapter 84

It was roughly twenty minutes later that Stark came into the lounge. He didn't have any trouble spotting Natasha and Strange, who now had a glass of iced tea in his hand as well. Natasha had mentioned an interest in the sanctum and the items in it – like the cloak – and Stephen had been more than willing to describe the place as well as he could, and entertain her with some stories of its history. Sometime during their conversation Peter had stirred himself just enough to roll over and now the boy had his face tucked against her hip, with the cloak of levitation still gathered around him, apparently content to be used as a blanket when needed.

Both Strange and Natasha watched as Tony stopped long enough to get a drink from the bar and then walked over to join them, pulling himself a chair to settle in. Stark nodded to Strange but immediately checked on Peter, and frowned when he saw the boy wasn't alone.

"What's that thing doing here?" he asked, surprised to see it outside of the sanctum.

"It wanted to see Peter," Stephen answered, with a slight shrug.

Tony rolled his eyes, making Natasha smile.

"I literally have _no response_ to that statement."

"I don't know what to tell you, Tony," Strange said. "I told Wong I was coming and the next thing I knew it was practically choking me, it was wrapped around my neck so tightly. So I brought it along."

"I think it's kind of cute," Natasha admitted, reaching down and touching the fabric, careful not to disturb Peter. It didn't respond to her touch in any way she could tell, but then, neither did the boy.

That only elicited another eye roll, but Strange spoke before Tony could say anything else.

"I thought I'd come check on him. Make sure his fever is easing and the pain isn't getting worse again."

"Is it?"

Stephen shrugged.

"I haven't checked, yet. We figured he might as well get a nap while he could. Wake him up for me, will you Natasha?"

She reached down at touched Peter's cheek, and whispered his name, gently. Peter opened his eyes, and rolled over, sitting up while he clearly processed the fact that there were new arrivals in the area that hadn't been there had been when he'd fallen asleep.

"Yeah?"

Stark scowled.

"What the-? No. _No_." He pointed at Peter with the hand that held the drink. "You go back to sleep and try _that_ again, young man."

All three of them looked at him, confused. Even the cloak seemed perplexed.

"What are you talking about, Tony?" Strange asked.

"He fell asleep on the way home and refused to wake up for me. I had to _carry_ him up to his bed. She barely touches him and suddenly he's wide awake? That isn't right."

"All it would take is a touch for me," Stephen admitted, winking at Peter, who was clearly trying to decide if Stark was seriously annoyed with him or not.

Natasha smirked.

'Sometimes a woman's touch is all it takes, Tony," she pointed out.

"Peter, I want to check your ribs," Strange told him. "How do they feel?"

"Okay."

"Pain?"

"A one, maybe a two sometimes."

The boy was still wearing the flight suit, which would make what he wanted to do more difficult, and the cloak refused to move aside when Strange went over to sit on the other side of Peter.

"Do you _mind_?" he asked it, impatiently.

The thing ignored him, caressing Peter's cheek now that he was awake.

Natasha grinned, delighted that the thing appeared to have a mind of its own – at least as long as it wasn't posing a threat to Peter. She snapped her fingers, getting its attention, and gestured to her shoulder.

"Come sit with me until he's done," she told it.

The cloak hesitated, but only for a moment, and then moved from its position wrapped around Peter to a new one draped over Natasha's left shoulder, with part of it wrapped around her and tucked under her chin, turned toward Peter and the doctor.

There was only the slightest motion and the flight suit was gone, replaced with jeans and a t-shirt.

"It's hanging in your closet," Strange assured Peter, who frowned momentarily at the substitution. "I assume you'll need it again."

Rather than pull the boy's shirt off, Stephen just slid his hands under the fabric, watching for reactions as he worked his way from chest to belly.

"Swelling is gone, and you don't appear to have any real discomfort."

"No. I feel good."

"Good. Resume the water therapy tonight and get a lot of rest, when you can." He looked at the other two. "Nothing too strenuous, guys. Just because he feels good, it doesn't mean he's up to anything too active. Don't undo all my hard work."

"We won't," Tony assured him. "We're going to eat," he added. "Care to stay?"

"Are you cooking?"

"Nope."

"Then, yes."

Tony looked at Peter.

"Ready to eat?"

"Yeah."

"What do you want?"

"There's a piece of cake somewhere that I never got a chance to finish…" he said, looking hopefully at Strange, who rolled his eyes.

A moment later a box appeared on Peter's lap with the piece of white cake inside, still untouched – except for the finger mark in the icing – and chilled enough that Peter decided it must have been in a refrigerator somewhere.

"You can't have it until you've eaten something a bit more substantial, though."

"Burgers?" Tony asked. Peter nodded, and so did the other two when asked. "I'll be right back."

He stood up and left them and Natasha took the box from Peter, and helped herself to some frosting. She looked at Strange.

"Forks?'

He was already learning she wasn't someone to quibble with and also that like Peter already knew, she was hard to say no to. He rolled his eyes and three forks appeared in his hand. He gave them both one, and took the first bite of the cake for himself.

"If you spoil your lunch, it's your own fault," he told them both, waiting until each of them had taken a bite before helping himself to anpther.


	84. Chapter 85

When Stark returned from ordering their lunch the cake was gone and three forks were being licked clean of the last of the frosting. He scowled, and took the box from Natasha.

" _Seriously_?"

Strange smirked, but another box appeared, with another fork while the first one vanished.

"Better?"

"Yes, thank you." Tony walked over to the closest table and pulled it over so they'd have a place to eat lunch. Then he opened his box and took a bite of the cake inside. "For the record, I prefer chocolate."

"I'll keep that in mind," Strange told him as he reached for a bite of that cake as well.

Stark turned to Peter.

"I went by and spoke with May when I was in the city. You need to call her today, just so she can be less worried."

"I don't have my phone," Peter told him. "Or I would have."

"Luckily, _she_ pointed that out as well. I brought it with me – along with what can only be described as a mountain of homework. They're in your quarters. You'll probably want to work on that sometime today or tomorrow – as your schedule permits."

"I will."

"Good." He took another bite of cake and then pushed the box toward Peter and Natasha since neither had helped themselves to it, yet. "Stephen? What would you suggest as far as a rehab routine? We know the pool will help, but we have anything else he'll need – and if we _don't_ we can get it."

"Don't push him to hard, Tony," Strange told him, also looking over at Natasha so she would know the restrictions he wanted in place. "The water therapy is going to be enough activity for the next couple of days. Feed him as much as you can stuff into him and don't be surprised if he's tired. All the time."

"I feel fine," Peter told him.

"Which is exactly the problem you're going to run into," the doctor replied. "You _think_ you feel fine. You aren't nearly as healthy as you think, and you're going to trick yourself into undoing all the good that's been done. Which is why Tony – and Natasha – are going to keep you on a tight rein to prevent that."

"But-"

Strange held up his hand to stop the inevitable protest.

"Who went to medical school?"

Peter sighed.

"You did."

"Right. So believe me when I tell you that I know what I'm talking about. Do it my way."

There was a decided tone of _or else_ in his voice, but their lunch arrived before Peter could try to convince him that he felt fine, and his cake definitely didn't spoil his appetite.

Tony asked Peter about his flight, then, and that changed the conversation to Peter describing in between bites how the jet had lifted off vertically, all about dropping the parachutists and everything that happened after. Nothing Tony didn't already know from experiencing it himself – except the parachutists part – but he listened as if he'd never seen it before, and Natasha added her own comments when Peter tried to search for a description, or explain something a bit more technical than the boy quite understood.

"That sounds like a good time," Strange commented when he had finished describing the way Barton had dropped them in for their landing. The doctor looked at Tony. "Think I can wrangle a ride along some day?"

"That could be arranged."

"Natasha can fly it, too," Peter reminded him.

Strange raised an eyebrow at her, and she smiled.

"If you want a _real_ thrill ride have Clint take you, but I'd be happy to take you up some time."

"I'm going to take you up on that, you know?"

"Good."

Neither noticed Peter's grin, but _Tony_ did and it made him smile. The boy was nowhere near as subtle as he probably thought he was being. He stood up and clapped the boy's shoulder.

"Let's play darts."

"Okay."

They walked over to the dartboard and gathered their darts, but Peter had already proven to Tony that there was nothing wrong with his hand eye coordination and that when he threw something, it went where he wanted it to go. Stark lost quickly and decisively and grumbled the entire time.

"I'm sorry," Peter told him, sincerely. "I don't know how to not hit the spot I want."

"And you should never try," Tony told him, a hand on his shoulder enough to tell the boy that he meant what he was saying. "Always try your best – even when it's just a game. Otherwise you'll get sloppy, and it'll bleed over to other parts of your life."

Luckily for Tony's pride Strange and Natasha came to join them and the competition evened out just a little. Natasha had suggested her and Peter take on the other two, but Stark had vetoed that immediately. He knew Natasha was deadly accurate with anything she threw, and darts were no exception. Peter ended up partnering with Strange, and Natasha took Tony.

Natasha and Peter were evenly matched, and it turned out that Stark wasn't the only one who had spent a lot of his college days in bars hustling darts and pool, because Stephen was an equal match for Tony. They were finishing their third tie game when Barton entered the lounge and then Stephen and Tony bowed out completely and watched as the other three decimated the automated scoring program in the dart game system.

"I've got something for you," Tony told Strange as they leaned against the bar.

"Oh?"

Stark handed the man a small box, and Strange cocked an eyebrow.

"I'm not really the marrying type, Tony."

Which elicited yet another of Tony's famous eye rolls.

"Just open it."

It turned out to be watch. Strange hesitated, because he knew there was no way that Stark knew enough about his past to know his infatuation with timepieces. This one had an analogue face but was clearly digital in everything else, and had several buttons. It gleamed black and silver in the light behind the bar. He pulled it out of its case and saw that the back had been engraved with an Avengers symbol completely overlaid by the pattern of the Anomaly Rue.

He looked at Stark surprised, and the other man shrugged.

"It's the pattern on your window. I assumed it was important to you."

"You're right," Strange told him. "It is."

"The watch has GPS," Tony told him. "Not so we can track you or anything, but because they _all_ do. You can use it to track some of us, as well, if you want. It's also a communication device. If you ever need us… call. We'll come running."

Stephen was touched, and tried very hard to hide it. He put the watch on, and admired the way it fit.

"Thanks, Tony."

Stark was pleased that the gift was well received. It was hard to buy for the man who apparently had everything, after all.

"You can also call if you just want to go out for dinner – or a movie. Or come for a visit. Or _don't_ call. Just come."

Strange smiled. That message was clear, and he appreciated that, too.


	85. Chapter 86

Peter excused himself from the 3 way dart game rather early. For one thing, he was anxious to go and call May to let her know not to be worried. For another, the cloak had once more abandoned Dr. Strange for himself, and it had a tendency to caress his cheek, or nose, or eyebrow, or chin or pretty much anywhere, at just the wrong time, causing him to miss his mark. He didn't mind, really, though. The thing was emanating magical happiness and contentment at him every time it was near him, and he found that hard to be annoyed by. He didn't know _why_ it liked him, but there was no doubt that it did. He had to admit, he kind of liked it, too.

Clint had the last word as he put his darts away, though.

"Swim lesson tomorrow morning, okay?"

"Yeah."

"And give Stark a heads up this time."

Peter nodded.

"I will."

Natasha and Clint went back to their game, and Peter walked over to where Strange and Tony were standing. Both men had noticed him approaching.

"Going to call it a game?" Stark asked.

"Yeah. I thought I'd get some homework done, and see if I can get through to May."

"Good idea. I'll walk with you."

"So will I, if that's all right," Strange added.

"Sure."

The two men walked on either side of him, both watching for any signs of exhaustion or other indications that he wasn't feeling well. Both for different reasons, but equally intently. The cloak had attached itself to Peter's collar and was draped down his back, but the ends were rubbing his ears and playing with his hair.

"What is that thing made of?" Tony asked, curiously, unable to miss the way it was loving up to Peter.

"I don't have a clue," Strange admitted. "It's _very_ old, though – and not of the Earth."

"Why does it like _Peter_ so much? Don't get me wrong, he's a great kid, but the thing pretty much _dotes_ on him."

"Why do _you_ like Peter?" Stephen asked.

"Because he reminds me of myself," Tony said, putting a hand on the boy's shoulder, cloak and all. "And everyone knows how much I love me."

Strange smiled, because he knew that was the only answer he was going to get, but that it wasn't even close to being complete.

"Maybe he reminds if of a previous companion," the doctor suggested. "Or maybe it likes that he can sense magic the way he does. There's really no way of knowing for sure. It can communicate some basic ideas – obviously – but nothing too complex."

"Are there others like it?" Peter asked.

"I've never heard of another."

"Cool."

They reached his quarters, but they stopped at the door.

"I'm going to head home," Strange told both of them. I'll probably check in in a couple of days – if not sooner. Nothing strenuous," he reminded Peter – and Stark.

"We'll keep an eye on him," Tony promised.

"If you need me call."

"We will."

The doctor looked at the cloak.

"Are you coming?"

It tightened its hold on Peter for just a moment, and then transferred itself to Srange's suit. A moment later they were both gone.

"That man definitely knows how to make an exit," Tony said. "You okay?"

"Yeah."

"If you're up for it, we'll do the pool at six and then eat dinner after."

"Okay."

"Want me to come get you?"

Peter shook his head.

"I'll meet you there."

"When?"

"Six."

Tony nodded and left, and Peter went into his room, looking for his phone and the homework. He didn't feel like working on the homework, but if he did any of it then he could honestly tell May he'd started on it when he called her.

OOOOOOOOO

At 5:45 Peter was standing on the edge of the pool looking down at the shallow water uncertainly. Not with _fear_. His single lesson with Barton had at least made him comfortable enough with the water that the shallow end wasn't scary. His problem was that he wasn't sure if Stark would consider the few lap swimmers in the water enough of a chaperone or if he should just wait for Mr. Stark.

He finally decided to err on the side of caution and wait, so he stood on the edge and watched the swimmers, comparing his own fledgling ability to the smooth strokes all of them had. He wasn't really aware of the looks that he was getting from those coming into the pool area, or those leaving it, but he was definitely drawing the attention of those near at hand while he waited.

"Peter!"

He turned toward the men's locker room and smiled when he saw Steve heading his way. The man was obviously dressed for the water, but his eyes were pretty much glued on the boy's chest and belly as he walked over. He followed his gaze and realized that it was the bruising that he was looking at. While they didn't hurt thanks to Wong's great poultice, they were still vividly black, blue and purple – there were even a couple that were starting to fade into an odd yellowish color.

"Hey, Steve."

"Are you okay?" the man asked him without preamble.

"Yeah. Thy look a lot worse than they are. Really."

At least he didn't have to worry about someone here trying to save him from the Avengers by carrying him away to the authorities.

"They look pretty bad," Steve agreed, also noticing that it wasn't hard to count the boy's ribs, either, they were so prominent. Not big to begin with, Peter had lost a lot of weight, and it showed clearly. He shook his head. The Avengers were doing a poor job of taking care of one of their own. Even if he wasn't quite one of them, yet.

"They don't _hurt_ ," Peter told him, demonstrating by poking his own ribcage and not wincing while doing so.

Steve nodded, taking his word for it, and allowing the subject to drop.

"Are you here for another swim lesson?"

He'd heard about the first one from Natasha.

"No. I'm supposed to walk some laps. But I thought I should wait until Mr. Stark got here, to keep him from worrying that I'll fall and hit my head or something."

Rogers smiled at that, since he was sure that was exactly what Tony would be worried about. A motion at the entrance drew his attention and he gestured toward the door, where Peter saw Stark walking in, dressed in his customary suit, but looking quite at home anywhere in the facility.

"There he is." He patted the boy's shoulder. "I'll see you later, okay?"

"Yeah."

Steve walked away with a wave to Stark, who looked at his watch.

"I'm late?"

"I was early."

"Good. We'll blame you, then."

He hid his own reaction to the bruising on Peter – but it wasn't as shocking to him, only because he'd been present for many of the poultice changing. There was no way the kid was going home looking like that. His aunt would never let him back.

"You talked to May?"

"Yeah. She's fine."

"Good." He gestured toward the water. "Feeling up to this?"

"Yeah."

"Good. Then we'll have some dinner and find something to amuse ourselves, okay?"

Like Steve, he hadn't noticed how thin Peter was actually looking, and figured Stephen was definitely right about that. They needed to stuff him with as much food as they could. Tony made a mental note to talk to one of the base medics and see what kind of diet would pack on some of those lost pounds the quickest.


	86. Chapter 87

They ate dinner in the commissary. Like breakfast there had been, the place was set up as a buffet, so Peter assumed that was usually the case. Which kind of made sense, so that no one had to eat something they weren't really in the mood for. It smelled great, and he was hungry, so he was in the mood for anything.

"Get yours, first," Tony told him, gesturing toward the buffet. "I'll save us a spot."

They parted, and Peter joined the small line of men and a few women – mostly military but not all – who were deciding what they wanted for dinner. The man in front of him nodded a greeting and even handed him a tray, but he was talking to the woman who was in front of _him_ , and she was much prettier than Peter was, so the boy wasn't surprised that he was pretty much ignored while he waited.

He chose what looked like some kind of casserole, fresh bread and added corn on the cob, then filled the rest of the space on his tray with not one, but _two_ slices of pie. Loaded down, he looked for Stark, who had found them a table in the corner of the room, and was waving at him to show him where to go.

"Hungry?" Tony asked, eyeing the loaded tray with approval.

"Starved."

"Good. Save my spot."

Tony left to join the line, and Peter buttered his bread, while watching the fairly crowded room with interest, trying to decide who did what just by how they were dressed. He also noticed that everyone seemed to like Tony, who had a ready smile for anyone who wanted to stop him to talk.

He had just a moment's warning, when suddenly his eyes were covered with two hands and a very sultry voice whispered in his ear.

"Guess who?"

Peter grinned, because _no one_ had a voice like that.

"Natasha."

Romanoff laughed, let him go and sat down in the chair Tony had vacated.

"Lucky guess."

"Not even close."

She looked him over, carefully, noting that he seemed tired – as usual – but not uncomfortable.

"Feeling okay?"

"Yeah. I just got out of the pool."

"Good. Can I eat dinner with you?"

"Of course."

She left him, too, and headed for the line and Peter watched as she joined Stark. He didn't know what they were saying, but he had a feeling the discussion was about him, to judge by the way Tony looked over his direction. Or maybe he was just checking on him, to make sure no one had taken his spot. Whatever it was, they were still talking when both returned carrying loaded trays a few minutes later.

"I was telling Natasha that I was thinking of watching a movie after we eat. Interested?"

"Sure."

"Not to be confused with the movie night of your choice in the place of your choice that you won in the chess game," Romanoff pointed out, her irreverent smile at the dig to Tony only making Peter smile, too.

"Is there an auditorium here?" Peter asked, curiously. He wouldn't have been surprised.

"There is, but it's used for debriefings and the chairs are not very comfortable," Tony answered. "We can use my quarters, or yours."

"Mine are messy."

"Mine, it is."

Besides, Peter hadn't seen his quarters, and Tony wanted to make sure that if the boy needed him for some reason, he'd know where to find him, if necessary.

"Are you coming, Natasha?" Peter asked.

She shook her head.

"I can't, sorry. Clint and I have to make a delivery tonight."

"Oh." He had no idea what that meant, and wasn't sure if he was supposed to ask. He decided that he wouldn't. It wasn't any of his business, anyway. "Next time?"

"Definitely."

"Eat," Tony told him. "Otherwise I get to choose the movie and it's going to be a chick flick."

OOOOOOOOOOO

Stark hadn't been kidding when he said his rooms were nice. They really were nicer than nice. Peter's quarters were as amazing as he could ever have asked for, but they were squalid in comparison to the layout Tony had. His living quarters had two TVs, a couple of couches and a bar that wasn't as large as the one in the lounge, but was still pretty impressive. Peter assumed that he hosted people here, too, though, which would explain the need for the extra space and seating. He showed Peter his office, which he said Pepper used more than he did, really, and the bedroom which was easily twice as big as Peter's. There was even a workroom with a wall of displays and panels and all kinds of tech in various phases of development.

"Wow."

Tony smiled, unable to quite hide his pride in the place.

"Be it ever so humble…"

He put his hand on Peter's shoulder and steered the boy over to the closest couch, settled him in and then handed him the remote control.

"As you've probably already noticed, we stream most of the entertainment here. You choose the movie, I'll pop some popcorn and get the drinks."

It was still light enough outside that Stark picked up a different remote and closed all the blinds on the windows before heading to the bar, which also had a microwave built in. He started popcorn while he watched Peter scan through the movie menu, navigating it easily.

"Do you have a preference?" Peter asked, looking over his shoulder.

"Nothing with a lot of explosions."

"Sci-fi?"

"You spent the day with a flying rug," Tony reminded him. "One that belongs to a guy that can make things appear out of the blue. How about something a little less fantastic."

"Suspense?"

"Sure."

"Oh, got it."

Peter found the movie he wanted, and looked over his shoulder again, waiting to see Stark's reaction.

"Okay."

"Seen it?"

"No."

"Something else?"

"No, this is good. I can handle Mel Gibson."

The popcorn was done, and Stark put it into a bowl, grabbed a couple of colas from the fridge and walked over. He handed it all to Peter, and then vanished for a minute, before returning with a pillow and a blanket, which he draped over the boy as he sat down beside him. As far as Tony was concerned, the boy was going to have a quiet evening watching movies. If he fell asleep, even better. The couch was more than comfortable enough to sleep on and he wouldn't even send him back to his quarters.

"Thanks."

Peter hit play on the remote, and _Signs_ started. Tony picked up the popcorn bowl and set it between the two of them, double checked to make sure that Peter was comfortable and then settled in for the movies.

OOOOOOOO

Sure enough, the boy didn't make it to the first alien reveal in the movie. The suspense of the movie wasn't enough to keep him awake – most likely because he'd seen it before – and he started leaning against the armrest after only about forty-five minutes or so.

Feeling pretty impressed with himself, Stark decided to finish the movie – only because he wanted to see how it ended. He did move the popcorn bowl to keep it from being tipped and made sure the blanket was tucked around Peter, but didn't do anything else. He didn't really need to.

" _You're not going to fall asleep on the couch."_

" _I wasn't sleeping," Peter lied, shaking himself to look more alert._

 _He didn't fool May. She'd had the boy almost five years, now, and they knew each other far too well by now for him to be able to put much of anything by her._

" _Go to bed, Peter. You can finish the movie tomorrow."_

" _But-"_

" _Go to bed. Now."_

 _He sighed, and got up, grumbling under his breath._

" _What was that?"_

" _Nothing."_

" _Bed, mister – and don't you dare slam the door."_

" _Fine."_

 _He pulled the blanket tightly around him and went to his room, closed the door and fell into his bed, asleep almost before his head hit the pillow._

The alien was getting the crap beat out of it when Peter suddenly mumbled something in his sleep on the couch next to Tony, drawing his attention. He sat up, making noises under his breath and as Tony watched, the boy wrapped the blanket around himself and walked into the bedroom.

Stark frowned, thinking that maybe he'd needed a restroom break, but when a few minutes went by and there was no sign of him, Tony got to his feet and went to check on him. And found the boy asleep in _his_ bed, a pillow tucked against his belly, snoring lightly.

"Are you _kidding_ me?" Tony muttered, slightly annoyed, but more amused, really. This was not part of his plan. He knew as well as anyone that plans rarely went without mishap, but getting his bed hijacked hadn't even been a consideration.

He leaned against the door frame for a long moment, hoping somewhat that the boy would wake up, but not at all surprised when he didn't. With a sigh, Stark silently crossed the room, opened a cupboard and took out another blanket. Then he went back to the living room just in time to see the credits rolling.

"He owes me, bigtime…" Stark grumbled as he sat back down on the sofa. Comfortable enough to sleep on if you're a fifteen year old boy, but Tony _really_ liked his bed.


	87. Chapter 88

The hand on his cheek might not have woken him on its own. When that hand held his head still and someone suddenly placed a gentle yet very persistent kiss against his chin and then his forehead and ended with a lip lock not to be denied, Tony opened his eyes. And found Pepper leaning over him, looking sleepy, somewhat amused and no little bit confused.

"Do I even _want_ to know why you are sleeping on the couch and Peter is sprawled in my bed?" she murmured, softly. "You didn't lose the bed in another game of chess, did you?"

"Of course not." He sat up, wincing just a little at the awkward position he'd been sleeping in. "We were watching movies and he fell asleep."

"In bed?"

Stark rolled his eyes, because now he _knew_ she was messing with him.

"On the couch. Next thing I know, he gets up and goes into the bedroom and doesn't come out. When I go check on him he's sound asleep."

"Why didn't you move him?"

"Because he was _sleeping_."

It was Pepper's turn to roll her eyes. Still torn between being annoyed and being amused – and maybe just a little gooey inside at the idea that Tony would sleep on a couch to avoid the risk of waking the boy up to move him – she sat down beside him and pulled his arm around her.

"So, now my options are… sleep on the couch with you. Go sleep with Peter in my own bed, or go find a different bed to sleep in."

"Or fool around with me all night…"

She smiled and shook her head.

"I'd probably be better off with Peter."

"And he'd either die of embarrassment when he woke, or spontaneously combust."

"Or both."

Stark smiled and pulled the blanket he'd been covered with over the two of them and cuddled her against his side, tucking her head against his shoulder.

"I'll make it up to you."

"You'd better." She nestled against him, but smiled, even though he couldn't see it. "It's a good thing I saw you on the couch and thought it was him and decided to check on him before going to bed. He and I might have had a few less secrets between us if I'd just gone to bed."

That made Tony smile, too.

"You checked on him?"

"Yes. Sound asleep and looking like he might stay like that forever."

"Good."

"No more nightmares?"

"No. He's fine. He just needs to gain some weight back and lose the battle scars from Loki."

"He's so adorable."

Tony pressed a kiss against the top of her head.

"You can't keep him, you know?"

"I suppose not." But she'd be tempted to try if not for the fact that he had May, and Pepper knew they loved each other. "Breakfast in bed for a week."

"Yes, dear."

His ready acceptance made her think she should have asked for more, but she was tired, he was warm and they really didn't have that many chances to cuddle like they were just then. Pepper closed her eyes and let his heartbeat lull her to sleep. Tony took a bit longer, but Peter wasn't the only one worn out by the events of the boy's illness and he was asleep soon, also.

OOOOOOOOO

It was the vibrating alarm on Peter's watch that woke him. He'd set it just to make sure that he didn't miss the swim lesson with Clint – even though he'd been pretty sure that Mr. Stark would wake him for the water walk thing long before hand. He didn't even open his eyes to turn the thing off, but when he rolled over in the bed and didn't find the edge of the couch as he'd expected, he did, suddenly wide awake.

He wasn't in his room. It definitely wasn't his bed. He wondered if Mr. Stark had carried him in here when he'd fallen asleep, but couldn't understand why he'd bother. The couch was pretty comfortable.

Peter lay on his back looking up at the ceiling. The room was almost completely dark, but he could see just fine. Not that there was much to see above him. He sighed, thinking that he could just go back to sleep and Clint wouldn't care, if he told him that he'd fallen asleep. But that wouldn't be the whole truth and it wouldn't be right to leave the man waiting for him at the pool side. He rolled out of bed and walked to the bedroom door, and stopped, completely confused, now.

Mr. Stark was sleeping on the couch. With Pepper beside him. They didn't look like they were in the most comfortable positions and again he wondered why Stark had bothered to put him in the bed, when it obviously would have been a lot more appropriate for the two of them to sleep there. He would have been fine on the couch. He debated putting them to bed. He knew he was strong enough to lift either of them – he'd lifted a broken building off himself once and that was a lot heavier. But knowing his luck he'd drop one of them and wake them up. They didn't look comfortable, but they were asleep, which meant a lot to him and probably meant a lot to them as well. He decided to let them sleep and headed for the door.

Before he reached it, though, he changed direction and moved silently to the work station area and found scratch paper and a pen almost exactly where he thought he would. Sure, Mr. Stark did his final creations on the computer and the VR, but Peter knew everything initially started on paper. It did with him as well.

He wrote a short note, explaining where he was going, set it on the coffee table by the popcorn bowl and quietly let himself out, closing the door silently behind him.

Then he headed to the pool.


	88. Chapter 89

Natasha was already at the pool when Peter walked out of the locker room. She was the only one. Clint wasn't there, yet, and there were no lap swimmers. Romanoff was in a swimsuit but not wet, yet, and gave him a smile when he walked over to her.

"Good morning."

"Hi, Natasha."

"Where's Stark?"

"Asleep. I thought I should just let him."

She nodded.

"How was movie night?"

"I think I slept through most of it," he admitted. "Did you get your delivery made?"

"We did. No fuss and no muss. Clint's on his way."

"Okay."

He sat down on one of the nearby benches, and she sat beside him, looking him over, critically. He was too thin, and the bruises still looked pretty bad, but he looked far more alert lately. Clearly the sleep was working for him.

"Are you up for this?"

"Sure. Are you swimming with us?"

"I'm going to hover – just in case."

"Where is everyone else?"

"They're not coming to lap swim until we're done. Too many distractions, and too many people between you and Clint."

"Oh."

Of course, Natasha hadn't said that when she'd passed the word the evening before that the pool was going to be closed. She just said it was going to be closed. No one thought to ask why.

They chatted for a few more minutes, but Barton arrived from the locker room, carrying the float and ready for the water. He frowned when Peter stood up, getting his own first view of the bruising and unable to hide his reaction.

"That's from Loki?"

"Yeah."

"We should have turned him into a fountain."

Peter grinned, and Natasha smiled, since the boy didn't have a clue that that had really been addressed as a possibility. She hadn't been there, either, of course, but she'd been told everything that had been said in the room while she'd been taking care of Peter's injuries.

"I'm okay," Peter assured him. " _Really_."

"Then let's see what you remember from last time."

OOOOOOOOOO

The lesson went well. Peter was still about as awkward in the water as a duck was out of it, arms and legs flailing, but he managed to propel himself back and forth from one side of the pool to the other several times. All without managing to get his face wet – which Clint assured Natasha that they could work on as he grew more comfortable.

They finally called it a day when some others started trickling in, clearly wanting to lap swim, but willing to sit on the benches and watch the lesson play out. Several of them let out an impromptu applause when the boy pulled himself out of the water, causing him to flush with a mixture of embarrassment and pleasure, and he waved to a couple that he was beginning to recognize. The adults on the base were beginning to accept him, and like him. Maybe not as an equal quite yet – probably more as a mascot or a kid brother that many of them most likely had – but it was a start.

"Good job," Natasha told him, handing out towels. "You look more comfortable in the water than you did before."

Of course, he couldn't look any _less_ , that was for certain. She didn't say that, though.

"How do you feel?" Barton asked. "Tired?"

"No. I'm okay."

"Good. Let's get dressed and go to the gym."

Natasha snorted, drawing Peter's attention.

"He wants to experiment on you, Peter," she told him.

"Not exactly."

"What would _you_ call it?"

"Tests."

"Which is pretty much the definition of experiment," she pointed out. "But I'm interested in the outcome, too, so wait for me and I'll walk with you."

Barton nodded his agreement and they separated into their various locker rooms.

"It's not an experiment," Clint told him once they'd showered and were changing. "But I am curious how strong you are. Do you happen to know what you can bench?"

Peter shook his head.

"Do you mind us finding out?"

"No. Not if you're curious."

He trusted Clint and Natasha. Besides, _he_ was curious, too. He'd never had a chance to experiment in the weight room at school, for obvious reasons.

They met Natasha by the locker entrances and the three of them talked about breakfast plans as they walked toward the very impressive gym set up for the facility. Machines and free weights, benches, treadmills and stationary machines of all sorts were lined along a huge open area that was also lined with mirrors. Peter assumed it was so the people lifting could watch themselves get bigger, because there were a lot of people doing just that.

"You can sync your own personal workout to your smartphone," Barton explained as he led the way over to the free weights. "It's a pretty cool setup."

Just as they were passing by one of the resistance machines, being used by a woman who was a lot more buffed than Peter was, the pulley snapped with an audible zinging noise. The coupler shot right at them before anyone had a chance to react, but Peter's hand shot out and caught it before it could hit any of them.

"Nice catch," Natasha told him, looking impressed.

Peter smiled, a little self-consciously, and handed the coupler to the woman who had been using the machine. Who stared at him as they walked by.

"Well, that's one less thing to test," Clint said. "Nothing wrong with your reflexes."

"Good thing," Romanoff said, shaking her head. It might have hit Peter, so it could have just been self-defense, but the thing had also come pretty close to hitting her, and she wasn't sure she would have been able to dodge away in time.

There was a weight bench open, and they walked up to it. Barton sized Peter up, but then remembered the video of the SUV he'd stopped in mid-motion.

"We'll start light and work our way up."

"Okay."

Two burly guys watched as Clint loaded a hundred pounds of weights on either side of the barbell. Both of them looked at Peter incredulously when the boy sat down on the bench. One of them stepped forward, his expression turning concerned.

"I'll spot you."

"Thanks."

Peter lay on the bench, looking up at the weights, but didn't hesitate when he reached for the bar and pressed the weight effortlessly and set it back on the bench.

"More?" Barton asked, smiling at the disbelief in the expressions of those who had watched.

"Sure."

He waited while Barton loaded another hundred on each side.

"No way," someone murmured, from behind one of the now growing group of people who were watching.

Peter lifted that as easily as he had the last one, and there was definitely a wave of interested conversation going through the crowd, now.

"Once more," Clint said.

"Okay," Peter agreed, looking at Natasha to see if she wanted him to stop.

"Last one," she told him, correctly interpreting the look. "Then we go eat. I'm hungry."

By now the guy who was spotting stepped up to add weight to one side, while Barton added to his.

"Three hundred, fifty," the spotter said. "You _sure_?"

Peter nodded, and lifted the weight, pressed it a few times and then set the barbell back in its cradle.

"How much can you lift?" the other guy asked him, curiously, as he sat back up on the bench.

"I'm not sure," Peter told him honestly. He was excited that the people around him were impressed, but it felt a bit uncomfortable to him to be showing off something that he really had nothing to do with. The guys were huge because they had worked hard. Peter hadn't, and he knew it.

"We'll go higher another time," Natasha said, reading his expression perfectly. "Let's see what's for breakfast."

"What do you weigh?" the spotter asked.

"One-ten."

There was a snort.

"Maybe soaking wet," someone said, amused.

"You come back anytime, kid," the spotter told him, patting him on the back when he got to his feet. "We'll find a bigger bar."

Peter nodded, and followed Clint and Natasha out of the gym. He'd go back if Clint wanted him to, but the place wasn't somewhere that held a lot of interest for him, and not some place that he'd be able to fit in at. He already knew that. It had only taken one trip to figure it out.


	89. Chapter 90

The commissary smelled amazing.

"French toast," Natasha said, breathing in deeply as they walked over to the buffet.

"Nat's a sucker for French toast," Clint told Peter. "Want something from her? Learn to make French toast."

She shrugged her acceptance of that rather than try to deny it.

"We all have our vices," she said, forking a small stack of the slices onto her plate and adding sausage. "At least _mine_ is _normal_."

"There's nothing wrong with peanut butter and cheese," Barton protested.

Peter made a face, but didn't say anything, instead loading his plate with biscuits and gravy and adding an apple. They walked over to an empty table and sat down.

"What are you doing today, Peter?" Natasha asked him, just as they all noticed Tony Stark walk into the commissary and over to the buffet. He gathered several items, but rather than head their direction, he headed for the door, plucking a vase with a single flower in it off a table as he walked by it and vanishing.

"I'd better start on my homework," Peter told them.

"Need help?"

"No. Just motivation."

The others shook their heads.

"That was never one of my favorite things," Clint admitted.

"Ditto. Tony could help you."

Since Peter knew how little help he'd get from Mr. Stark, he settled for a shrug. Maybe without Dr. Strange to argue with, he might be a little less intense, but somehow Peter doubted it.

"What are _you_ doing?" he asked them, curious what an Avenger did when they weren't Avengering.

"We'll be gone all day," Clint told him. "We made a contact in Bucharest and I want to make sure they're set."

"You're going to _Bucharest_?" Peter asked, impressed.

"It sounds more interesting than it really is," Natasha told him. "If it wasn't such a long trip we'd take you, just for the added company."

"Another time, though," Clint promised.

Peter thought it was nice of them to think of him at all, much less that he'd feel left out. He nodded.

"Is it an Avenger contact, or a S.H.I.E.L.D. contact? Or is it a secret?"

"A secret," Natasha told him, smiling. "Don't tell anyone it's an Avenger contact, okay?"

"Okay."

They finished eating and Natasha and Clint excused themselves, just as Tony Stark returned to the commissary, without the tray, now. He nodded hello to Clint and Natasha as they walked by, exchanged a few words and then headed Peter's way.

"You didn't have any French toast, did you?" he asked without preamble.

"No. Why?"

"Nutmeg."

Peter frowned.

"I think it's cinnamon."

"Why risk it?"

"Um... okay."

Tony sat down, his gaze intent on Peter.

"How do you feel?"

"Okay."

"Sore?"

"A little."

"Well rested?"

"Yeah. Your bed is great."

Stark scowled.

"Feel up to a drive?" he asked.

Peter didn't even ask where he was going. He just nodded.

"Sure."

"I'm going to take Pepper into work this morning and thought that afterwards we could stop and see your aunt so she doesn't think we've kidnapped you permanently. Besides, you haven't been to the tower, yet, right?"

"No." He really wanted to, though.

"Good. Be down in front in ten minutes, okay."

"Okay."

OOOOOOOOOO

It was still early enough to be chilly out. Peter was wearing jeans and a sweatshirt when Stark's car pulled out of the garage and stopped beside him. This time the vehicle of choice was a four door sedan, with Tony driving and Pepper in front beside him. Stark's window rolled down as he stopped the car.

"Get in, Peter."

The boy got into the back seat behind Tony and Pepper turned around in her seat to be able to talk to him better.

"Good morning."

"Hi."

"How are you feeling?"

"Good. Thanks."

Stark rolled his window up and headed for the main highway, and Pepper stayed in the position she was in. She and Peter had spoken a few times, but this was her first chance to have him all to herself for a while and actually learn about him, and she had every intention of doing just that. She started off with basic questions about school and how his aunt was doing, and by the time they hit the main highway she was up to his likes and dislikes.

Pepper wasn't the interrogator that Natasha was, but she didn't need to be. Peter liked her and was willing to answer anything she asked. He knew that she was aware of his secret, and if she wanted to know more about him, that only made sense to him, since he spent a lot of time with Tony Stark. In return, Pepper gave him a little of her own history, telling him a few anecdotes about time spent with Tony even before he became Ironman.

They were pulling into the underground garage at the tower before either realized it, and Stark stopped in his parking space and went around to open Pepper's door for her.

"Thanks for the chat, Peter," she told him, giving him a hug before he knew what she was up to. She couldn't help herself, really. He was far too cute and adorable for his own good. "Keep Tony out of trouble for me, okay?"

"Okay."

"I'll give him the cheap tour and we'll see you in your office before we leave," Stark told her, kissing her on the cheek.

Pepper got into one elevator but Stark and Peter headed to a different one.

"Are you taking her home, too?" Peter asked.

"No. She'll either drive herself, stay here in our apartment or Happy will come get her if she wants."

"I really like her."

"Good thing she likes you back," Tony told him, a hand on his shoulder propelling Peter into the elevator. "Let me show you the place and then we'll go see your aunt, okay?"

"Yeah."

They stopped on any floor that had anything interesting on it. There was still a lot of different R&D going on in the place and Stark explained some of the projects as they walked through. He also showed Peter the offices, the guest quarters and the various living quarters for the few who actually were in residence there. A quick stop in the restaurant got them some snacks to munch on and then Tony showed the boy his apartment that he used when he decided to stay at the tower – which was normally more often than not, but with Peter at the facility, he'd obviously switched that around for the time being.

Finally they ended up in Pepper's office, and she asked if they wanted to have lunch before going to visit May.

Breakfast had been a bit ago, but Peter wasn't hungry, and Tony declined for both of them, telling her that he wanted to beat traffic later if they could. Pepper handed Peter a vase with a rather pretty arrangement of flowers in it and told him that he should give them to May.

"From _you_ , though," she told him. "Women like flowers. Especially when they come from someone we love."

Tony smirked, spoiling the moment, but Pepper ignored him.

"Thanks," Peter told her, sincerely. It was a great idea and one that he had to admit he never would have thought of on his own.

"I'll see you tonight. Now scoot."

She waved both of them out of her office.

"Was she talking to you or to me?" Tony asked, heading for the elevator to go back to the garage.


	90. Chapter 91

Tony Stark caused a spectacle pretty much everywhere he went. Much of it had to do with him being Ironman, of course. A lot of it had to do with his expansive nature. He never hid from the fame, in fact, he embraced it for the most part and wallowed in it. Not as much now as he had initially, but sometimes things became a habit and it was easier to stick with that habit than go out of the way to try and break it. He was also a showman born and loved to play to an audience.

When he and Peter stopped in at May's office, the first person they met was the floor secretary, who knew Peter quite well and smiled when he approached her desk.

"Peter! May said you were sick…"

He nodded, his own smile an echo of hers. He'd known her for many years, and liked her.

"Hi, Estelle. I thought I'd surprise her. Is she here?"

"Of course." She reached for the phone and pushed a button, her kindly gaze still on the boy. "There's someone here to see you."

Another of May's coworkers was walking by and saw Peter as well. The man clapped him on the shoulder in a friendly hello, but then noticed the company the boy was keeping, and froze, his hand still on Peter's shoulder but his eyes the size of saucers.

"You're…"

Tony smiled, used to the response.

"I _am_."

The man looked at Peter.

"You know who this is?"

"Yeah."

Tony stuck his hand out, and the man let go of Peter's shoulder automatically to shake it.

"Tony Stark."

Estelle had watched the exchange, her own expression registering surprise as well, but not quite the shock that the other was. She was a New Yorker through and through, and the mother of four rough and tumble teenaged boys. Very little could floor her.

By the time May showed up, there was a small crowd around Tony, who was more than willing to shake hands, give autographs and even take photos. Peter was standing to one side, watching with amusement and telling Estelle that yes he'd been sick but he was feeling better, and she was complaining that he was far too thin and if he was, indeed, staying with Mr. Stark then the man was doing a piss poor job of feeding him up proper.

"Peter?" May hugged him close, obviously pleased to see him, but like any mother might, her expression clouded with concern when she let him go. "Are you okay? What's wrong?"

"Nothing, May." He reached for the vase he'd set on Estelle's desk and handed them to her. "Mr. Stark had to come into the city and we thought we'd surprise you."

"He's too _thin_ ," Estelle told her. "That's what's _wrong_. And he looks tired."

"How do you feel?" May asked.

"Better."

"You look…"

" _Great_?"

" _Terrible_. Have you been eating? Getting enough sleep?"

"We're working on it."

"Work harder, okay?" she told him, relenting and giving him another hug. "I want you home, but only when I know you're not going to fall on your face."

"Okay."

The three of them watched as Tony broke free of the crowd and walked over to give May a cheerful hug.

"Look what I found," he told her, gesturing to Peter.

She smiled.

"Thanks for bringing him by. Is he being good?"

"We're managing."

Estelle snorted her disbelief of that, and Stark winked at her, already liking the woman. They chatted for a few minutes, mainly about what rehab routine Dr. Strange had set up for Peter and the boy assured his aunt that yes, he was eating, and sleeping and was being good. They might have stayed longer, but Tony knew he was causing a distraction and that they all had work they probably needed to get done.

"Anything I can bring you?" He asked May.

She hugged Peter again and shook her head.

"You can bring him by anytime."

"And that _Captain America_ fellow, too," Estelle added, matter of factly. "He's certainly a pleasure to look at."

Tony smiled.

"I'll see what I can arrange."

They headed for the elevator and Stark couldn't help but feel pleased with himself.

"She looks good, huh?"

"Yeah. Thanks for bringing me. It was a good idea."

Peter had heard the concern in his aunt's voice on the phone the day before, but now he knew she wasn't going to be so worried.

"You're welcome. What do you want to do for lunch?"

They stopped for Chinese. The restaurant was small and one of Peter's favorites and the staff didn't seem to realize who Tony was – although the waitress and the man at the register both recognized Peter and asked about his aunt. Loaded down with noodles and chicken, Peter decided that he was feeling pretty good when he and Stark walked back to the car and then headed out of the city.

Like before, though, his illness induced exhaustion was catching up to him now that the pleasure of surprising his aunt was wearing off. This time, though, Peter fought it, determined to stay awake and not be a burden.

Tony noticed immediately when his head started drooping.

"You _can_ nap, you know?" he told the boy.

"I'm fine."

Which he wasn't, and Stark knew it.

"I don't mind, Peter."

"No, really. I'm good."

He sat more upright, and Tony realized with a little chagrin that his dig about having to carry the boy to his room before might have spurred this on.

"Really."

"No. I'm okay."

The boy had a stubborn streak, and Tony already knew that. But Stark was not without resources of his own, and he pretty much held all the cards this time. He turned on some soft jazz, and hit the switch that would warm Peter's seat, while at the same time using the steering wheel controls to turn up the temperature in the car slowly enough that the boy didn't realize what was happening.

Filled with a solid lunch, warm and being soothed by the music and the vibrations of the powerful engine of the car, Peter's head nodded and his eyelids seemed to weigh a ton all of the sudden. He snapped his head up, trying to wake himself up, but each time took longer and longer.

Stark watched, amused, as Peter fought a battle he had absolutely no chance of winning, and slowly, like one of those giant trees in the forests out west, he finally toppled. His cheek came to rest against Tony's shoulder, and Stark shifted just enough to allow the boy to slide a little lower, to a more comfortable position against his side. Glad that he'd chosen an automatic that morning, Tony rested his hand on the boy's shoulder and turned the temperature down a little, but kept the seat on.

"Too bad we don't have that cloak, now, huh kid?" he murmured, affectionately.


	91. Chapter 92

When Peter woke, it was dark. A light from his window gave him plenty to see by, and he realized as he woke that he was in his own bed and warmly covered. Of course, he didn't remember _getting_ there, but it seemed that was a common theme these days. He lay quietly for a moment, trying to remember what had happened, but only remembered trying to stay awake. Obviously he'd failed.

He looked at his watch and realized not only was it late, but it was _really_ late. After two in the morning. And he was really hungry. He got out of bed, noticed that whoever had put him to bed had simply taken his shoes off and covered him and walked silently to his fridge, figuring correctly that the commissary would be closed and he had little chance of finding much choice in the lounge.

There were new items in the fridge that hadn't been there that morning. Lunchmeats of all sorts, sliced cheeses and all kinds of sandwich makings and condiments. It made Peter smile, because he could live on sandwiches, really, and he knew Mr. Stark knew that and had probably decided that it was his best bet for a meal when he woke up. Without taking anything out of the fridge, he made himself a roast beef sandwich, smashed it flat and then looked out the window while he ate it.

It was raining again. The single light that illuminated the field showed that it was coming down pretty hard, reflecting the rain as it drove into the ground hard enough to make it almost look to Peter like it was raining up. He leaned on the window sill until he was finished with his sandwich and then turned away and went out into the living area of his quarters. He still had a stack of homework to do but didn't feel like doing any of it, just then. The good sleep he'd had and the trip to see May had left him restless and he decided that he'd go for a walk. Not outside, though. He wasn't _that_ restless. He decided to go to the lounge. It'd be empty at this hour, he was sure, but he didn't mind that. Sitting alone wasn't a terrible thing to Peter. It was a good way to think.

OOOOOOOO

The corridors were silent as he walked through them and he didn't see anyone as he entered the lounge. As he expected, the place was empty. Peter saw the chessboard sitting on a table in the corner, left there by the last people to play, pieces scattered on either side with only the white king and a single pawn standing against the black king, queen and several pawns. He went over and sat down, picking up the pieces and putting them where they belonged and then started playing, moving the pieces and playing both sides with equal care.

Twenty minutes later, there were three white pieces on the side and three identical black pieces on the other, and his spider sense told him that he wasn't alone any longer. He looked up and smiled when he saw Natasha walking over to him, dressed in her flight suit and looking a little rumpled and a _lot_ tired.

"Who's winning?" she asked him, looking at the board while she bent over to give him a one armed hug and pressed a kiss against his forehead.

"It's a stalemate," Peter answered. "How was Bucharest?"

She shook her head, looking at the board and moving one of the black pieces.

"We just got back."

"Does the rain make flying more difficult?"

"No. Not really. But difficult contacts _do_ make for a longer day than expected."

Peter moved his white rook.

"Everything okay?"

She took the rook with a pawn, and he promptly captured the pawn with one of his own.

"It's fine. I'm just tired, I think." Natasha smiled as she played her king's side knight. "I brought you a present."

"Oh?"

He brought his bishop out and Natasha captured it immediately.

"It's in my quarters. If I'd known you were here I'd have brought it with me. I assumed you'd be asleep."

"I slept all day."

He took one of pawns, leaving his queen open to an attack.

Natasha frowned.

"You play better than that, Peter. Are you letting me win?"

He shook his head, denying it before he even thought about it, and then shrugged.

"No. Maybe not trying too hard to win, though?"

"That's a dangerous habit to get into," she chided. "You should always do your best."

"It's just a _game_ , Natasha."

" _This_ time it is. But if it were something more serious? Then what?"

"What do you mean?"

"What if – for some reason – you and I were fighting?"

"Then I'd lose," he replied promptly.

"Because I'm a woman?"

"Because you're my _friend_."

Natasha smiled, touched. He was obviously sincere. She stood up, and took his hand.

"Walk me back to my rooms?"

"Sure."

"And try harder to win next time we play. Okay?"

"Okay."

She hooked her arm through his as they left the lounge, and Natasha matched his pace, which she did notice was less unsteady than the last time they'd walked together.

"One of the lessons you'll have to learn, Peter, is that women can be just as dangerous as men – many times, we can be much more dangerous. Be careful who you trust, okay?"

He didn't understand, she could tell, and she didn't really expect him to understand. It was a lesson that no fifteen year old should need to know, but one that Natasha had learned much younger than that – and wanted to share with him before the lack of that knowledge would let him be hurt – physically or emotionally.

"I can trust _you_ , though?" he asked.

"Absolutely."

"Okay."

They were silent as they reached her quarters and she opened the door, gesturing for him to go in first. He did, looking around with interest since he'd never seen anyone else's rooms – aside from Mr. Stark's, of course, and those didn't count. Like Natasha had said earlier, hers were nicer, and had just enough of a personal touch to be far homier than his own.

She reached for a box and handed it to him, gesturing for him to sit down on the sofa.

"Clint wanted to bring you a Romanian girl," Natasha told him with a smile as she sat down beside him. "But I reminded him that _that_ gift would almost certainly come with an angry Romanian father."

Peter laughed and opened the box, and found that it contained candy. Nothing that he'd ever seen before, but definitely sweet, with a mixture of nuts of all kinds, caramel and chocolate drizzled on them.

"Thanks, Natasha."

"You're welcome."

She pulled off her boots with a tired sigh, leaned into the sofa and closed her eyes.

"You look tired. I should go so you can get some rest."

"Keep me company. If you're not in a hurry."

He wasn't. Peter took one of the candies from the box and popped it in his mouth. It was amazing, and she opened her eyes and smiled at the look on his face.

"They're very easy to become addicted to," she warned him. "What did you do today?"

He told her about the drive to the city and how he'd been shown all around the tower, describing things to her that she'd probably seen a million times, but were still exciting to him. She closed her eyes again, but asked him a couple of questions that assured him she was listening. At least, at first. She must have fallen asleep somewhere during his description of lunch, because by the time he started telling her about the drive home she was done asking questions and leaning at an angle that was going to guarantee her a stiff neck when she woke up.

This time Peter didn't hesitate. He stood up, moving as silently as he could, and went into her bedroom to make sure her blankets were pulled down. Then he walked back to the sofa and scooped her up into his arms as carefully as he could and easily carried her into her bedroom. She mumbled something against his shoulder, and the boy smiled, amazed to find himself doing what he was doing, but certain that it was the right thing to do, and that she wouldn't mind. He put her to bed and covered her with the blankets, tucking them around her as neatly as May might have done for him back when he was little.

He pressed a slightly awkward kiss against her forehead, similar to the one she'd greeted him with in the lounge, and then closed the door to her room, picked up his box of candy and silently left, heading next door.

He had homework to do, and should probably get to it. With as much sugar as was rushing through his system from that one little piece of candy, he'd probably be awake the rest of the day.


	92. Chapter 93

"Well _that's_ a new one…" Tony murmured to himself from the door of Peter's quarters.

The boy was asleep. Sitting on the floor with his back against the sofa and his head on the coffee table. He had obviously fallen asleep working on his homework to judge from the pile of papers scattered in front of him and the pen still in his hand.

Stark walked over and crouched down beside him, moving an empty box that appeared to have chocolate or nut residual in it, and put his hand on the boy's shoulder.

"Peter?"

He woke instantly, clearly startled, and lifted his head, looking around. Tony smiled and pulled the paper away that had stuck to his cheek before Peter could notice, and then ran his hand along the boy's forehead and cheek, checking for fever. He didn't seem too warm.

"Hey, Mr. Stark." The boy looked at his watch. "It's morning?"

"Yes. How do you feel?"

"Okay." Maybe a slightly upset stomach, but that might have had to do with him eating the entire box of those candies that Natasha had brought him.

"Good. I thought we could get the water therapy out of the way, get you fed and then there's a couple things I want to work out with you in my workroom."

The boy looked immediately interested, of course, making Tony smile.

"Okay."

"Go get yourself woke up," Stark told him, sitting on the sofa and lending Peter a hand to get to his feet. "I'll wait for you and we can walk to the pool together."

Peter vanished into the bathroom and Tony picked up one of the completed papers and skimmed through it. Then he started stacking the finished into one pile and restacking the shambles of those that hadn't been done, yet, into another. Obviously Peter had been up for a while the night before, because he'd made a sizable dent in the work he had ahead of him.

Tony stood up when Peter reappeared, looking more awake but slightly green.

"You sure you're okay?"

"Yeah."

They walked to the pool, with Tony's hand companionably on the boy's shoulder, talking about the homework he'd done, even though he knew Peter really wanted to ask what they'd be doing in the workroom. There were plenty of people lap swimming, but again, since Peter was only going to be in the shallows, he wasn't going to be in their way.

The boy went to the locker room to change and Tony went and sat on one of the side benches to wait for him. Bruce joined him a couple of minutes later. He wasn't dressed for swimming – he wasn't much more comfortable in the water than Peter was – but Tony assumed he was waiting for someone who was swimming to be finished so they could start their day.

"How's he doing?"

"Seems to be coming out of it pretty well."

"Clint told me there's some bruising."

"Oh, there _is_. But he's not hurting, so we can live with that until they fade. We just need to fatten him up a bit."

"Ouch." Stark followed Bruce's gaze and saw that Peter had made an appearance at the door to the locker room and walking over to them. Every bruise was clearly visible, but they weren't as vivid as they had been a couple of days ago. Just _terrible_ instead of _horrible_.

"Yeah."

He stood up and met Peter, who greeted Bruce with a somewhat cheerful good morning before lowering himself into the water and starting his laps.

"Loki's something else," Banner said, frowning, as he stood beside Tony and watched the boy walking away. "Who'd do that to a _kid_?"

Tony hit Bruce's side with the back of his palm. He had noticed immediately what Banner didn't. A very faint tinge of green on his friend's neck.

"Don't get yourself worked up, big guy. He's going to be fine."

"Yeah, but-"

"No buts. He'll be okay."

Bruce shrugged, and then nodded, chatting with Stark about more mundane things as Tony waited for Peter, who was done before whoever Bruce was waiting for completed their laps. As the boy pulled himself out of the water, Tony looked at Bruce.

"Breakfast?"

"Another time."

"Okay."

She must be cuter than he and Peter were.

Stark waited for Peter to reappear, this time dressed, and the two of them headed for the commissary. Before they had made it very far, though, Peter suddenly felt that familiar tingle moments before he found himself engulfed in a tangle of heavy fabric and magical happiness.

Duly warned, Stark smiled and stopped, watching for Stephen to appear from the same corner that the cloak suddenly had. The doctor didn't make them wait long. Peter was still trying to get the cloak to free his face and hands when Strange walked around the corner.

"I knew you had to be close by," Stephen told them, shaking Tony's hand. "Coming from the pool?"

"And on our way to _breakfast_ , if you're interested."

"Of course."

They walked with Peter between them, the cloak wrapped around him more like a blanket than a cape like it was when it was being worn by Strange. Peter was getting used to the way the thing rubbed against him, and he couldn't help but smile at the cheerfulness the thing was exuding as it petted him.

Over a breakfast of pancakes and sausages, Strange asked Peter several questions about how he was feeling, how much he was eating and was he resting. Both men noticed that he only took one pancake, didn't bother with syrup and looked a more than a bit green at the idea of having any eggs.

"Are you feeling alright?" Tony asked, concerned. "You looked a bit ill, earlier, too."

"Yeah. I'm fine."

He _was_ , too, he just was paying the price for indulging in that entire box of candy. Not something he really wanted to admit to either of them. The cloak increased its odd humming, wrapping tighter around his shoulders as if to commiserate and both men looked a bit skeptical, but Strange let it go for the moment.

"What are you doing today?" he asked Stark.

"I want to make sure the new communications watch Peter has will integrate with his web shooter on that wrist seamlessly. Otherwise we'll have to modify one or the other. Better to learn that _now_ , than when he's fifty stories up and gets jammed."

"Can I watch?"

He'd never seen any of Peter's abilities – aside from the wall climbing – and was truly interested. Besides, there was no way he was going to leave until he'd had a chance to reassure himself the boys lack of appetite wasn't something to worry about.

"Sure." He looked pointedly at the boy, who was trying to take a drink of orange juice with one arm hampered by cloth and the other pinned to his side while the cloak rubbed his cheek, encouragingly. "He'll need his hands free, though."

Stephen shrugged.

"I'll do my best. But it doesn't always listen to me."

"Kind of like a _teenager_ ," Stark said, with a smile and a wink for Peter, who almost got his orange juice to his mouth before spilling it.


	93. Chapter 94

" _You_ designed this?" Strange asked Tony, holding the web shooter and watching as it activated on his wrist.

"This particular delivery system, yes, but the whole concept is Peter's. I just tweaked it a bit."

"That's _genius_ ," Stephen said, looking over at the boy, clearly impressed.

Peter blushed. He was sitting on a stool in Stark's work room, watching as Strange examined the web shooter and the webbing itself that Tony had already produced from a device _he'd_ been holding. The cloak had completely ignored Stephen and was still draped over Peter's shoulders and back, occasionally caressing his cheek. It was clearly not interested in anything but spending time with the boy now that it was with him again.

"I thought it would be appropriate, but it had to be strong."

"What will it lift?"

"It'll hold my weight. As far as dead weight capacity I'm not really sure."

"We've tested it to 19,000 pounds before it starts to give way," Stark told him. "There's obviously more force involved if Peter's in the middle of a swing instead of just hanging, so the variables are constantly changing, but it's pretty impressive stuff."

Strange pressed the release mechanism and watched as webbing shot out of the device on his wrist, knocking a couple of laptops off the counter. He'd been aiming for the wall.

"Sorry."

"It takes a bit of practice," Peter said, going over and picking them up and returning them to the counter.

"Obviously."

Peter was already wearing the new one Tony had made to synchronize with his new watch, and had another on his other wrist, getting used to the feel of having the shooter as well as the watch. He'd tested it a couple times with well-placed shots that had made it look easy, and Strange had immediately asked if he could try.

Stark wasn't much better than Strange when it came to aiming, but Peter didn't mind letting either man have a go at the web shooter. For one thing, Strange had been willing to show him the sanctum, and Tony had already proven that he only wanted to help make the stuff work better than before. Peter had cooked his webbing up in between assignments in science class. He knew how much better it could be with the help of a genius like Tony Stark. Beyond that, he knew that if one of _them_ had something amazing to play with he'd want to try it out, too. It was only fair.

The doctor smiled, and deliberately shot Tony, who was close enough that even he couldn't miss, and Tony had immediately retaliated with a gunslinger draw and a gob of webbing to Strange's face. That had started a webbing war that left the workroom covered in a heavy layer of webbing, items knocked from every surface and Peter and the cloak the innocent victims of what could only be called bedlam.

"This stuff is great," Strange said, when the shooter was empty and both men were forced to call it a draw. "Not very practical for someone like myself, but it's amazing."

"You want to see amazing, Stephen?" Tony asked, pulling some webbing out of his hair. "Let's take this to the gym and let Peter show you what _he_ can do."

Strange nodded.

OOOOOOOOOOOO

"This is why superheroes shouldn't wear _capes_ …"

The gym wasn't the same weight room where Clint had taken Peter to test how strong he was. This room was a basketball court that was clearly designed for indoor activities where a lot of space was needed, and a good place for Peter to show Strange what his webbing could do.

The only problem was that the cloak of levitation was clearly not interested in finding out what Peter could do. It only wanted to keep him safely on the ground.

The first time the boy had shot a web to the ceiling and swung himself up, the cloak had obviously panicked and had immediately gone after him, wrapping itself around Peter and tangling both of them. The only thing that had save the boy from a fall was that the cloak slowed their descent and deposited him gently on the polished wooden floor, caressing his cheek to comfort him the entire time.

Strange had called the thing to him and held onto it the next try, and Peter shot the webbing to the ceiling once more, swung himself up and used his other hand for the next shot – only to hit the cloak, which had freed itself from Stephen's grip and had come to rescue him. With nothing to anchor to and more free line than the cloak could compensate for, Peter had tumbled to the floor at speeds that made Strange hold his breath until the boy had picked himself up, apparently unharmed.

"Talk to it, Peter," Tony said, worried that the thing was going to do more damage to the boy trying to save him than Loki ever could have. "Make it listen to you." It obviously wasn't listening to the doctor.

The cloak was once more surrounding Peter, checking to make sure that he hadn't hurt himself in the fall, and obviously not enamored of the idea of the boy trying again. Feeling ridiculous, Peter walked off to the far corner, limping slightly and uncertain what he could tell the thing to make it understand what he was trying to do.

"He's going to hurt himself," Strange told Stark as they watched the boy have an animated conversation with the cloak that they couldn't hear.

"He'll be okay."

Tony had seen what Peter could do, after all. It was just a matter of getting the cloak to cooperate.

A few minutes later, Peter returned and the cloak unwrapped itself from around his shoulders and transferred to Strange, taking its customary position. It was tense, though, as Peter once more shot a web to the ceiling and this time managed to follow through with a second web, and then a third to replace the original when he wanted to swing off the basketball hoop at dizzying speeds.

The two men and the cloak watched as Peter worked his way across the gym, along the ceiling and then swung by at an insane speed, shooting a web at a basketball that was near at hand to show a little of the finesse that only he could manage. Obviously he was a much better shot than Tony or Stephen, and it showed. He sent the ball through the basketball hoop, did the same with another one on the other end of the court and skimmed the floor so closely that the cloak wasn't the only one to tense up at the sight.

Only when he had landed, taking the classic Ironman landing that Strange had seen a time or two - and probably without even realizing he was doing it - did the cloak release from Strange and once more fling itself at Peter, who grinned and allowed it to wrap itself around him once more, practically being throttled as the thing reassured itself he hadn't taken any harm.

"That was incredible, Peter," Strange told him, walking over.

The boy wasn't even out of breath.

"Thanks."

"You should see him in the city," Tony said, clearly proud of him and not bothering to hide it. He put his hand on Peter's shoulder and the boy beamed, forcing Stephen to hide his smile.

Yeah, he wanted to see what the kid could do with magic – and he was certain that the spider sense thing would have an interesting application – but there was no doubt now what Peter was born to do – and what he _wanted_ to do.

Or who he wanted to do it with.


	94. Chapter 95

After the demonstration they decided on lunch in the lounge. For one thing, there wouldn't be so many people there at this time of the day as there would be in the commissary, but for another, it was closer to the gym and Strange and Stark both were worried about Peter's limp and wanted him off the ankle as soon as possible.

"I'm _okay_ ," he told them both as they walked out of the gym. Both men had taken a position on either side of him, in case he needed the support, and he could feel them hovering close at hand – arms ready to catch him the moment he stumbled. Even the cloak seemed to be holding him tighter. "I've done a lot worse from a higher distance."

"I know," Tony assured him. "Here, why don't you put your arm over my shoulder? We'll have Stephen take a look at it while we wait for lunch?"

"It barely hurts."

"No reason to aggravate it, then," Strange told him, reasonably, insinuating himself with a shoulder close at hand.

Peter sighed, and put his arms over their shoulders, allowing them to help him to the lounge. They pretty much carried him, but he honestly _did_ feel fine. At the worst it was probably just a sprain and would walk out in a day or so. If not sooner. Like he'd told them; he'd done worse to himself and survived without a hitch.

They caused a little bit of a scene when they entered the lounge, of course, and Natasha was sitting with Steve at one of the corner tables and looked up at the commotion. Both got up, but didn't move when they realized that Stark had seen them and he and the doctor had decided to head their way with their protesting burden.

"What happened?" Natasha asked, moving a chair from the table so Stark and Strange could set Peter down. The cloak moved just enough so Peter wouldn't sit on it, and Steve stared at it.

"He took a fall in the gym," Tony explained.

"It's _fine_ ," Peter assured her, shrugging. "They're just-"

"I want to take a look at it," Strange interrupted, moving another chair so he could sit down and put the foot in his lap. "Tony, get some ice."

Natasha frowned, her hand on Peter's shoulder – and the cloak, of course.

"Does it hurt?"

"No. It's fine."

Strange pulled the shoe and sock off, and watched Peter's expression while he manipulated the foot, and the ankle. The boy couldn't hide a wince of pain when it moved just the wrong way, but it wasn't as bad as he'd thought it might be.

"Probably just a sprain," he pronounced as Tony returned with a small bucket of ice, usually used to chill Champaign. "We'll wrap it, ice it and keep it elevated for the rest of the day, and see how it feels tomorrow, okay?"

"Yeah."

There was suddenly an elastic bandage in the doctor's hand and he wrapped Peter's foot and ankle with an easy efficiency that impressed all of those watching.

"Too tight?" he asked Peter when he was done.

"No."

"Does he need anything?" Tony asked.

"Just lunch, I think."

"What's with the cape?" Steve asked, watching as the cloak had started rubbing Peter's cheek and forehead while Strange had been wrapping his foot, clearly trying to take his mind off the terrible pain he must be in.

Natasha laughed, realizing Steve hadn't seen it before.

"It's a _cloak_ ," she corrected him. "And for some reason it's in love with Peter."

"Where'd you get it, Peter?' Steve asked, bending a little to get a closer look. The cloak ignored him, concentrating its attention on the boy.

"It's Dr. Strange's," Peter answered. "We met at the sanctum. It can fly."

"Really? That's cool."

Steve might be older than all of them, but there was always something new to be seen, and he knew it, and embraced it, really. He reached out and touched the corner of the cloth, wanting to feel it, and Peter felt the thing vibrate with magical happiness at the touch. Obviously it didn't mind being the object of interest – it probably was nowhere near the first time.

"Have you guys eaten?" Tony asked Steve and Natasha.

"We've ordered," Steve answered, letting the cloak go and pulling over a couple of extra chairs for them. The table was big enough, but they'd need an extra chair for Peter's foot.

"I'll go get ours," Stark offered. He didn't bother to ask what they wanted. Burgers were never boring, and he knew if Strange wanted something else, he could just wave his hand and _poof_! there it would be.

"What were you doing to hurt yourself?" Natasha asked, sitting in the chair beside Peter. The cloak reached out and rubbed her cheek in greeting, and she smiled, but her attention was really only for Peter.

"He was giving me quite an impressive demonstration of some of his abilities," Strange answered, before Peter could try to figure out how to describe what he was doing without making it sound like he was showing off. "And the cloak of levitation got in the way and made him take a tumble."

"I'd have liked to see that," Steve said. He smiled, realizing how that sounded. "Not the _fall_ , the demonstration."

"It was definitely worth seeing," Stephen assured them. "I'd say give the foot a day or so, but it should be good to go."

"Sure," Peter agreed. "Any time."

"But not _today_ ," Natasha said as Stark walked back over to join them.

"Not today, what?" Tony asked, sitting between Strange and Steve.

"Peter's going to give us a repeat of his demonstration for Stephen," Natasha told him.

"Sans the cloak," Tony said. He looked at Strange. "Restrictions?"

"Keep him off his feet today. No water therapy tonight. Let him try it in the morning and see how it feels."

"It feels _fine_ ," Peter told them. Again.

No one listened to him.

"Looks like a quiet night in, then," Stark said. "Are you guys going to join us?"

Strange shook his head.

"I have to get back to the sanctum after lunch."

"We have a readiness drill to set up," Steve told Tony.

"Looks like you guys are on your own," Natasha said. "You could help with the readiness drill, but-"

She was interrupted by the arrival of the wait staff with her lunch and Steve's. Peter's stomach growled at the smell. Burgers _never_ got old, true, and he was obviously over the box of candy he'd eaten, because now he was hungry. Luckily, Natasha was more than willing to share her fries with him and Strange while they waited for their lunch to arrive as well, and the conversation turned to other topics.

Which was fine with Peter, since he didn't know what a readiness drill was, and didn't want to look stupid by asking.


	95. Chapter 96

When lunch was over Natasha and Steve excused themselves with a promise to see Peter later, and Strange and Stark had once more supported the boy between them to get him back to his room. They settled Peter on his couch and Stark made sure there was a pillow under his leg which was propped on the coffee table.

"If it starts to bother him more than it is now, have it x-rayed," Strange told Tony, as the cloak gave Peter a final caress before switching over to the doctor's collar.

"I will."

"It's fine," Peter told them. Again.

"Call me if you need me."

"Thanks, Stephen."

Strange vanished, taking the cloak with him, and Stark looked down at Peter, who was leaned back into the sofa.

"You okay?"

Peter nodded.

"I'm fine."

"Tired?"

"No. I'm going to work on my homework."

"Good idea. Do you need help?"

"It's all English and Health."

If it had been Science or Tech – or even Math, he might have recruited Tony, but Stark's strengths were not in the only subjects Peter had yet to finish, so he would muddle through them on his own.

"I can stay…"

Peter smiled, truly tempted. He _liked_ spending time with Stark and appreciated the fact that the man was willing to just hang out with him and keep him company. He also knew he was still worried about him, but knew that his foot wasn't so bad that he needed someone to be with him.

"Do you have work to do?" He asked, pointedly.

"I _always_ have work to do," Tony told him. "But what if you need someone to hand you the remote, or something?"

The boy extended his arm and pressed the trigger for his web shooter, which he was still wearing on his wrist. A jet of webbing hit the remote unerringly and he jerked his wrist, pulling it to him, smiling smugly at Stark as he turned on the television.

"Smart ass."

Only sometimes, and only because he'd learned from the best. But he didn't say it. He didn't really _need_ to.

"I'm okay, Mr. Stark. Really. I'll do my homework, and maybe take a nap."

"Okay. If you need me, call. Otherwise I'll come get you for dinner."

"All right."

"You're good?"

"Yeah."

Convinced, Tony left, and Peter sighed, debating on watching TV or working on homework. He finally decided to do his homework, just to get it out of the way.

OOOOOOOOOO

Peter was still awake when Tony returned, knocking lightly on the door. He'd finished the remainder of his homework – probably just in time to have May send more out to him – and had wasted the rest of his afternoon watching movies and talking to Ned on the phone once school was out. His friend had been excited to hear about what he was up to, but was a little disappointed that Peter didn't have any really interesting stories to tell him. He wasn't sure how much he could tell him about the Sanctum, and decided that he'd leave that for Dr. Strange to tell – or maybe give Ned a tour. He didn't mention the cloak because he just didn't think Ned would really believe him, although he did mention the fact that there was now a fridge in his quarters and it pretty much had anything in it that they could wish for – including beer. Then he dashed those hopes by pointing out they were for Mr. Stark.

"Hungry?" Stark asked, walking over and looking at the boy's foot, obviously looking for swelling that hadn't been there before.

"I could eat."

"Good." Tony reached a hand out and helped Peter to his feet. "Pepper's going to save us a spot."

He didn't really need the steadying hand that Stark gave him as they walked – to the _lounge_ , not the commissary – but he did lean just a little on the man, appreciating the assist, since without a shoe he was walking just a little lopsided. They entered the lounge and he saw that it wasn't just Pepper, but Bruce sitting at the table waiting for them.

"We ordered," Pepper told Tony as he situated Peter in the chair across from Pepper and pulled up a chair for him to put his foot on.

"It's chicken, Peter," Stark told him. "I hope you're hungry."

"Sure."

Pepper smiled at him.

"How's the ankle?"

"It hardly hurts at all," Peter told her, honestly. "Lot of fuss over nothing, really."

"Better safe than sorry," Banner said.

"We're going to teach you a new game," Tony said, sitting down across from Bruce. "Pinochle."

"Ever played?" Pepper asked him.

"No."

"Pepper is going to be _your_ partner, Bruce is going to be mine."

"Because I'm so bad at cards?" Peter asked.

"We drew straws," she told him, smiling. "I won."

He had a feeling she wasn't being completely honest with him, but he appreciated the attempt and was determined to do everything he could to not lose as spectacularly as he did with every card game that he'd tried so far. Surely a game that gave him a partner right off the bat would give him a better chance of winning.

Tony pulled out a deck of cards that Peter noticed immediately wasn't a regular deck, and a pad of paper for scoring.

"We'll teach you the basics, eat dinner and then a quiet night of bidding and tricks. Okay?"

"Yeah."

OOOOOOOOO

"I can't believe how _bad_ you are…"

Peter would have shrugged, but he had one arm around Pepper's shoulder and the other over Stark's, since the two of them were helping him back to his room much later.

"You've seen me play," he pointed out.

"I just assumed it was a fluke…"

"Every time?"

Pepper laughed.

"Don't worry, Peter," she told him. "That's why _I_ was your partner – to keep him from egging you into making any crazy bets."

"Because anything I lost, you'd lose too?"

"Exactly."

"I should have had you partner with _Bruce_ ," Tony told him as they reached his quarters. "We'd have made a killing. I probably could have won the Sanctum from you."

Pepper looked over at Peter, surprised.

"You won the Sanctum from Stephen?"

"Playing chess," Tony confirmed.

"Nice. You need to figure out why you can't play cards. Then we could take you to Vegas."

Peter grinned, and the two of them released their hold on him.

"You okay from here?" Tony asked.

"Yeah. Thanks for the help."

Pepper leaned over and kissed his cheek.

"Thank you for a very nice evening."

He blushed, which made Stark grin.

"I'll see you in the morning. Keep that foot elevated."

"Okay."

They left and he went into his quarters, smiling because even though he and Pepper had lost pretty much every hand to the others, Peter had had a very good time. He sat down on his bed, and unwrapped his foot, figuring that it didn't need wrapped _and_ elevated all night. For that matter, it probably didn't need either.

He lay back on the bed, decided that since he'd told Mr. Stark he was going to elevate it that he probably should, and stuck a pillow under his ankle. Then he reached for the remote and decided to watch a movie to put himself to sleep.

Only it was interesting, and he _didn't_ sleep. He watched another, instead. Just as he was finally drifting off, he felt a tingle that pulled him immediately from his light doze. Not the _magic_ tingle like when Dr. Strange was doing something impressive or when the cloak was around him. This one was the tingle that told him something was wrong. Or that something was going to happen.

Instinctively, Peter turned off the TV and scrambled out of the bed, heading for the window. With his bedroom completely dark, he looked out the window. The light that was normally shining on the field wasn't, and the entire area was black, with only the faintest glow coming from the crescent moon that was just over the trees in the distance. It was enough light for Peter, though. More than enough.

As he watched, he saw a movement just coming out of those very same trees, and then another. Moving slowly and deliberately he saw a small group of people, dressed in dark uniforms inching their way very carefully toward the facility.

And all of them had weapons.


	96. Chapter 97

Peter ducked, reflexively, even though he knew there was no way any of them could see him.

"Oh my God… oh my God… _oh my God_ …"

He bolted for his door, ducking into the living area and looked down at his watch. Obviously he needed to tell someone what was going on. Someone who could actually do something about it. Someone who wasn't him.

The only problem was he still wasn't adept at singling out any particular person. He was sure he could make a general broadcast to everyone, but what if the guys in the woods were on the same frequency? They'd know they were spotted and who knew what they would do? Probably not just run away. That never happened in the movies, anyway.

He went to his door and slipped out it, closing it behind him and running to the one next to his, rapping on it frantically.

" _Natasha_!" his voice was a loud stage whisper and he knew it was ridiculous even as he did it, since there was no way he was going to be overheard but he couldn't help it. Maybe some of the bad guys were already in the building? Maybe he hadn't caught the beginning of whatever kind of invasion it was, maybe it was the last wave.

No one answered, and he opened her door, figuring if he needed to apologize she'd understand. A quick walk through her quarters revealed them to be empty. He didn't know where she was, but she wasn't here.

He ducked out again, his ear to his watch listening to hear if anyone had woken and noticed what was going on and given an alarm. He knew there were people up all times of the night and that the facility didn't actually ever sleep. But there was nothing. He ran to the door next to Natasha's and once more pounded on it.

"Steve!"

No answer, and with a brief hesitation he opened that door, too. There was something that felt wrong about breaking into Captain America's quarters, even though he'd have been more than willing to pay whatever price it took if Steve had been there.

Only he wasn't. His room was as empty as Natasha's had been.

Peter ran back to his own, once more closing the door so the light from the corridor wouldn't give him away when he peeked out his bedroom window. There were eight of them, and they were a lot closer to the building, now. He sat on the floor, his back to the wall and his head under the window sill, trying to think but unable to come up with any way to wake everyone up without probably endangering them.

Another look at the watch, and he took a deep breath, looked out the window once more to decide what entrance they were heading for, and scrambled back to the door.

The lights in the corridor were motion activated. He knew that from his nocturnal roaming earlier. He also knew where the switches were. Figuring he had a better chance in the dark, Peter hit each switch with webbing as he ran by, and then covered the sensors with another burst, knowing that they would stay off that way. He did that until he reached the entrance that the strangers had been heading for, and the wing of the facility he was in was now almost completely dark.

There was a single green exit sign above the door, but he didn't know how to turn it off. Instead, he covered it the easiest way he knew. He climbed the wall and blocked the light with his body while he waited for the door to open, trying to control his panting. Not from the run, but from nerves. These guys weren't robbing an ATM or something, they were highly trained. A lot more trained than he was – and there were a lot more of them.

When the door opened, slowly, he held still, watching as one, then two and three of the men entered. Amazingly enough, even though they were looking all around them, weapons in front of them and moving with each motion, not one of them looked up. They were wearing masks over their eyes and Peter had to assume they were night vision goggles because they didn't seem to have any trouble seeing where they were going.

"Clear," the first said, softly.

"Clear," the one behind him agreed.

Peter let the first six walk by him, figuring that his best bet was to divide them up from behind. He knew he didn't have a chance in a full frontal confrontation. He could handle trees being thrown at him – and even a _building_ once – but he was pretty sure he wasn't bullet-proof and it wasn't something he wanted to test.

The last two stopped at the door and took up sentry positions as the rest continued a very slow advance down the corridor. Peter took a deep breath, waiting until the last of them moved around the first corner and then shot webbing at both of the men by the door. The first shot was right in the face, blocking their mouths to keep them from yelling for help. Immediately following that the next shot at each went for the weapons, which he yanked out of their hands with identical flicks of his wrists and pinned to the wall of the corridor with well-placed shots. Only then did he use another shot to pin the two men themselves against the floor, flattening them and making sure they weren't going to be able to go anywhere.

He stopped only long enough to double check his webbing before he hurried after the group, staying on the ceiling to avoid any possible detection as he hurried to catch up with the silent group ahead of him, already planning his next attack, since he doubted that they'd be quite so helpful next time and split up again.

He was wrong, though. At a T in the hallway three of the men went one direction, and three went the other way. One direction led toward the control room that he hadn't actually had a chance to see just yet, and the other went for the research labs. He followed the ones heading for the control room, figuring that they could be the bigger danger to the facility. The corridors here were still dark thanks to Peter, but there was only a couple more turns before they hit the lighted areas, and Peter knew that he'd lose any advantage he had.

He had to shoot faster this time to repeat what he'd done to the men at the door, but he managed it, taking all three of them out and disarming them before pinning two to the floor and the other to the ceiling where Peter had pulled him to get him off his feet. Making sure their weapons were stuck to the wall high enough that they wouldn't be usable, Peter dropped to the floor and took off after the last three at a full run rather than be slowed by going upside down on the ceiling.

One of the three had hung back. Clearly they liked the idea of having the corridors dark as well, because this one had found a control panel for the lighting and was accessing it to turn all the lights off and the sensors. When Peter ran around the corner to catch up, he literally slammed into the man, knocking both of them to the ground. The man in the dark uniform was quick to right himself, but nowhere near quick enough. Webbing shot his face, muffling his yell before it could begin and another jerked his gun out of his hand – but not before he managed to fire off a shot.

Panicked, Peter stuck the gun to the wall and flattened the invader at the same time, sticking him to the floor and not waiting to make sure he was immobile. He wasn't going anywhere. An alarm sounded from somewhere in the facility just as Peter caught up to the last two men. He came at them from behind, jerking both off their feet with webbing, causing the weapons to clatter to the floor. One turned, reaching for his sidearm and Peter immediately stuck that hand to the closest wall, at the same time shooting a web that would keep the other from trying the same thing.

He couldn't help that he stuck these two a little more firmly and with a lot more webbing. Scared and trying to make sure that they weren't going to be able to get him, he kept shooting webbing until they were completely immobilized. Only when he was absolutely positive that they weren't going to chase him did he turn on his heels and run back the direction that he'd come, heading for Tony Stark's quarters with the alarm blaring in his ears and his heart pounding in his chest.

He turned blindly around a corner and slammed into someone, sending both of them to the floor with twin grunts of pain and surprise. Peter scrambled to his feet, terrified that he'd somehow missed one of the invaders, or that one had managed to free himself. His arm extended, waiting only long enough to make sure of his shot. It gave the other person a chance to roll to his feet as well, and the lights of the corridor suddenly came on, blinding him for the briefest of moments as the light glinted off a shield held in front of the man.

"Peter!"

The boy slid to his knees, relief driving the adrenaline out of him as he realized who it was he'd run into. Literally.

"Steve…"

"Are you alright?"

"No! There are people... they're _everywhere_. In dark outfits. They have guns, and.. and _more_ guns. And night vision goggles and-"

Steve dropped down beside Peter, his hand on the boy's shoulder, trying to steady him.

"It's okay, Peter."

"No. I got some of them, but there might be more. I don't- there's a _lot_ of them, Steve. I-"

"We _know_ ," Rogers interrupted, squeezing his shoulder tightly as another person knelt down beside him.

Peter looked up into Natasha's concerned eyes and she frowned.

"It was a readiness drill, Peter," she told him. "We were testing the facilities defenses. I told you about it..."

Kind of.

"I don't know about the _facility_ ," Steve said, looking around as more people began to gather. "But _you_ certainly passed."


	97. Chapter 98

Tony Stark wasn't part of the readiness drill, but when Natasha called him he came running. By then Steve had Peter off the floor and into a private conference room. When Tony arrived, the boy was sitting on a leather sofa, his head in his hands, his elbows on his knees and not looking at anyone. Steve and Clint were at the table, watching a laptop which was showing security footage of the activities in the corridors and Natasha was sitting beside Peter, her hand rubbing his back absently but neither of them speaking.

Stark went to him immediately, crouching down in front of him.

"You okay?"

He didn't look up, but he shook his head.

"No."

Tony looked at Natasha.

"Was he hurt?"

"Cut his lip on Cap's shield. Nothing serious."

"Was anyone else hurt?"

"No."

"What happened?"

Peter didn't answer, but Steve looked up from the video.

"Your boy took out a team of specialists without missing a beat – _and_ without hurting anyone."

"That's some serious skill," Clint added, obviously impressed. "They're _still_ trying to get them free."

"Peter?"

"I saw them crossing the field and thought they were attacking or something."

He still refused to look up at any of them.

"Why didn't you call for help?"

"I didn't know if they would be on the same frequency as my communication watch. I tried going to Natasha's room, and to Steve's, but they weren't there."

"So you took them out yourself?" Tony asked, rhetorically. "You could have been hurt."

"I didn't know it was a drill. I'm sorry."

"No. You _didn't_ know it was a drill. Which means you thought you were going up against a group of people who might have killed you."

That didn't make it better.

"I didn't want someone to get hurt."

Tony scowled, but Natasha gave him a look that spoke volumes before he had a chance to work himself up – and maybe say something to Peter that he shouldn't. He sighed, and put his hand on Peter's head, leaning forward and pressing his cheek against the boy's temple.

"You're okay."

Peter shook his head.

"I'm so stupid."

"It was pretty smart of you to split them up like that," Steve disagreed. "Surprise attacks are the way to go when you're up against those kind of odds."

"We can set up a new drill," Natasha told Peter. "Don't worry about it, okay? I think you were amazing."

"Thanks, Natasha."

"I assume we don't want this to get out?" Steve asked Stark, gesturing to the video.

"Yeah, he can't keep being anonymous if we have to worry about the footage showing up on YouTube."

Peter wasn't wearing the suit, after all. Just jeans and a t-shirt. And one shoe.

"I'll take care of it," Natasha offered. She was much better with the computer stuff than Steve or Clint. She looked at Stark. "You got him?"

Which he knew really was her way of asking if he was calm enough to keep from letting his concern for Peter make him say something he shouldn't.

"Yeah. We're fine."

She squeezed Peter's shoulder and got up, leaving the conference room to the others and heading for the control room where all the master videos would be stored. Stark took her place next to the boy.

"I'm going to go debrief," Steve told them, picking up the laptop.

"If they've got the guy down off the ceiling yet," Clint added with a grin.

"You guys okay?" Steve asked Tony, looking pointedly at Peter.

"Yeah. We'll see you in the morning."

"Peter?" Steve waited until the boy looked up, which he finally did. "You did good. Don't be down about this. Really."

Peter nodded, his smile not completely genuine but more than Stark or Natasha had managed. It was _Captain America_ telling him that, after all.

"Thanks, Steve."

The two left Peter and Stark alone, and Tony shook him.

"What's wrong?"

"I screwed up."

"Says who?"

"I could have handled things differently."

"Maybe. That's all _experience_. You have the skills, but you still need training in how to use it. And how to work with a team. All part of learning to be an Avenger."

Peter smiled at that thought.

"Superheroes 101."

"But I bet you were scared, yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Still did what you thought you had to do, though."

"I didn't think I had a choice."

Tony was quiet for a long moment. Finally he shook his head and put an arm around the boy's shoulder.

"This world doesn't deserve you. You _know_ that, right?"

Peter looked baffled, but Stark just stood up and pulled him to his feet.

"If you were older, I'd say you needed a drink," he told him, steering him toward the door. "If you were younger, I'd say you needed a hug."

"So what do I need?" Peter asked, curiously, as they walked into the corridor, which was empty, now.

"Probably both. But if I gave you a drink your aunt would most likely kill me – if Pepper didn't beat her to it. Let's go find something to do."

"It's three in the morning."

"We could T.P. the Sanctum."

"I'm pretty sure Dr. Strange would catch us."

"Yeah. Most likely. Wong gets up early. They'd probably make us clean it up, too."

"Yeah."

"Let's go bother Pepper. She always makes me feel better when I do something stupid."

OOOOOOOOO

Peter didn't ask why Pepper was awake at three in the morning. He just assumed that whenever Tony was woken up to come get him, Pepper had been woken as well and hadn't been able to get back to sleep. But she _was_ awake and gave both of them a smile when they walked into the main living area.

She asked about Peter's foot, and ignored the cut lip he was now sporting, telling him to sit down on the couch before Stephen could come in and accuse them of not taking proper care of his ankle. Then she fed Peter and Tony sandwiches made at the bar while they discussed his aunt May's upcoming birthday party and what Peter had in mind for it.

Since the whole thing had been as much a surprise to him as it was to May it wasn't surprising that Peter had absolutely no idea what they should do, and Pepper questioned him about what May liked and didn't like and if she'd dropped any ideas about places she wanted to visit, or things she'd never had a chance to do that might make interesting ideas for a theme for the party itself.

After stuffing him, they settled in on the sofa for a movie, despite the hour. With Peter between them wrapped in a blanket, she wasn't too surprised when he fell asleep almost immediately. She didn't know all the details about what he'd been up to that evening, but she knew that he still looked tired. Tony didn't last much longer than Peter, and he was soon nodding as well, leaning against the boy, who was leaning against Pepper. She smiled and debated sending them both to bed, but decided that they were fine where they were and she didn't really have to get up and start her day yet.

She was the CEO of the company, after all. Maybe she'd use a sick day or something.

Instead, she put her arm around Peter and cuddled him close, and running her fingers through Tony's hair, just enjoying the novelty of having them both to herself for a while.


	98. Chapter 99

When Peter woke he was sprawled on a sofa in Tony Stark's living quarters, covered with a blanket with his head on Pepper's leg and her hand on his shoulder. She was watching the news and he could smell coffee and breakfast before he even opened his eyes. He shifted, just enough to warn her he was waking, and then rolled from his side onto his back, not quite ready to sit up.

She looked down at him, and pushed his hair back from his forehead with a smile. He looked so sleepy, she couldn't help herself.

"I was wondering if you were going to sleep all day."

He shook his head and sat up, careful not to spill the coffee she had in her other hand. She let him go, but she didn't mind that he didn't scoot away from her, instead sitting close. Obviously comfortable enough with her that she could be in his bubble. She liked that.

"It's tempting."

"Are you hungry?"

"Yeah. But I should wait to eat until I do my water therapy."

She handed him a piece of toast and he buttered it, absently, still trying to wake up.

"Tony had some things to take care of. He said that if you wake up, I'm supposed to tell you that you're not doing water therapy this morning and you're to get yourself ready for your day and come find him." She rolled her eyes, which made him smile. "I haven't been required to pass on messages for him for a long time, but I probably got it right."

He smiled at that and shoved the toast into his mouth, standing up.

"Thanks for keeping me company."

"You're welcome, Peter. If you need anything, let me know, okay?"

"Okay."

"And if Tony does anything to _annoy_ you, make sure you let me know that, too. I'll set him straight."

His smile turned into a grin and he nodded, and headed for the door. He was still only wearing one shoe and that made him walk a little awkwardly, but his ankle felt okay this morning. His face hurt a little from accidentally tackling Steve in the hallway, but that was his own fault, so he'd just have to deal with it.

He went to his quarters, took a shower and changed into clean clothes and decided that the cut lip made him look a little sinister. Like Dr. Strange with the black eye. Well, maybe not _that_ sinister, since he couldn't sport any facial hair, yet, but that was just a matter of time. He wondered where to start looking for Mr. Stark, but his stomach growled and told him his first stop should be breakfast.

He pushed a button on his watch, deciding that since it was daytime and no one would be asleep and annoyed if he messed up and did the general broadcast instead of the private one, he'd try to use it to find out what to do next.

"Hello?"

There was a slight hesitation, and then it was Natasha who answered.

" _Peter_?"

"Yeah. Sorry."

" _Looking for Tony?"_

"Yes."

" _Come to the lounge, Peter."_

That time it was Mr. Stark.

"Okay _."_

OOOOOOOO

When he arrived, he didn't have any trouble spotting the others. The place was completely empty except for Stark, Steve, Natasha and Clint, who were all sitting at a table in what he was beginning to think of as his corner. Tony waved him over and they all greeted him cheerfully when he sat down in the chair between Tony and Natasha. They had coffee and a small plate of donuts, and Steve had a notebook and a pen near at hand.

"How are we going to explain your face to your aunt?" Tony asked him with a slight smile. He, of course, had carefully watched for a limp as Peter walked over and was quick to notice that the cut on his lip had also been joined with a bruise and a little swelling. "She's going to think we're beating on you."

"Boys get beat up," Clint said with a shrug. "She's raising one, she already knows that."

A server brought a tray over and set it in front of Peter with a smile of her own before she left them alone, and he looked down at it, surprised.

"I ordered for you," Tony said, noticing the look. He had a pretty good idea of what the boy preferred for his meals, now, and was comfortable doing just that. Besides, if he wanted something else later, there was always the fridge in his room.

"Thanks."

"We need to do a debriefing," Steve told him. " _Not_ because you did anything _wrong_ last night, but because that's what we do after any kind of activities – missions or even training and drills."

"Like when we dropped the jumpers the other day," Clint told him.

"It's how we find out what can be done better, or differently."

"And what _we_ need to do to help you," Natasha added, touching his hand for a moment.

Relieved by their reassurances that he wasn't in trouble, Peter nodded. "Okay."

"Normally we'd do it in a briefing room," Steve said. "But this is better."

And far less intimidating, as far as any of them were concerned. Especially Tony, who very rarely sat in on debriefing or planning sessions but had no intention of missing this one. Not that he was worried Steve would do anything to frighten or upset Peter, but he wanted to make sure nothing was said that Peter might take the wrong way. Tony knew him best.

"Okay."

"So tell us what happened last night, Peter."

"You saw the video."

Steve smiled.

"The video tells us the progression of events but not what you were thinking, or how you felt. Those are things we need to know, too."

"Oh."

That made sense. Peter gave them a fairly accurate account of what he had been doing when he first realized something was going on and what he'd done and what he was thinking while he was doing it. He didn't spare himself when he admitted that he'd been pretty scared, or that he hadn't been completely sure that he wouldn't have been talking to everyone instead of a single person if he tried to call for help on his watch.

No one interrupted the first time through the events, but then Steve ran him through it again, asking questions that made him add more detail to the narrative. Rogers was very good at it – not as good as _Natasha_ , of course – but he was able to get a lot out of the boy without Peter even realizing that he was saying it. By the time Peter's breakfast was done, the donuts were gone and the others had finished their coffee, they all had a pretty good idea of what had happened, and more importantly _why_ it had happened.

"You did really well," Steve told him when they finally finished, and he closed his notebook. "You didn't try to hurt anyone, but you made sure that they were disabled before leaving them and going on to the next set. That's an important lesson to learn."

"And often learned the _hard_ way," Natasha added.

"Recommendations?" Stark asked, leaning back in his chair.

"A thorough introduction to using that new watch of his," Steve said. "If he had been more confident about it, none of this would have happened, because Natasha or I could have told him it was a drill."

"Hand to hand training?" Clint suggested. "I think your hands off approach is the best way for you, Peter," Hawkeye told him. "But if you get trapped by anyone, you should know how to get away. In case there isn't a wall handy for you to climb."

"I can take care of that," Natasha assured them with a smile for the boy. "I think he should also spend a little time watching some training – but not _participating_ in them. That way we keep his secret, but he gets an idea of what the people around him are capable of doing."

"That makes sense," Steve said with approval. "We can set up some obstacle courses in the field over the weekend, and run through them on Monday."

"His aunt will be here tomorrow," Tony told them. "And so will Ned, I believe. We'll want to keep everything low key while she's here – and _you_ stay out of the water and keep your shirt on so she doesn't freak out about the bruises, okay?"

"Yeah."

"So we have _today_ , and then all of next week to start with. From there-"

He stopped when a motion near the entrance caught his eye and suddenly the cloak of levitation was streaking toward them, circling the table and then wrapping itself around Peter and engulfing the boy so entirely that none of them could really see him. Clint stared, but the others all simply turned their attention from the cloak to the entrance, figuring that if the flying carpet was there, then Strange wouldn't be too far away, either.

Sure enough, the doctor walked through the doorway only a moment later, saw them and headed their way.

"I'd say we're done here for now," Tony said, amused. Not that Strange couldn't be trusted to sit in on their briefings, but because he knew that Peter probably wouldn't be allowed to concentrate on anything while the cloak was in the room with him.

He didn't mind. It was beginning to grow on him.


	99. Chapter 100

"What is it?" Clint whispered to Steve, watching as the cloak literally wrapped itself around the boy, messing his hair up and rubbing against him. He might have been more concerned about a flying rug mauling Peter, except that everyone else was acting like it happened all the time.

"It's a friend of his," Rogers told him, shrugging. "Nat says it loves him. I can't disagree."

Before Barton could say anything else, Strange had reached the table.

"I thought I'd come check on my patient," he told them. Then he frowned, and then sighed and shook his head when the cloak shifted and he got a look at Peter's face. He looked over at Stark. "Are you _kidding_ me?"

"It was an accident," Tony said, quickly, as Strange walked around the table and leaned over to get a better look.

The doctor put his hands on Peter's cheeks, tilting the boy's head up a little to give him more light and a better angle to look at his lip and the bruise. The cloak that was wrapped around him moved slightly to allow him a better look, but continued to caress Peter's hair cheerfully.

"Are you guys even _trying_ to get him well?" he asked, his expression and inflection making Natasha smile. Strange shook his head, and winked at Peter before his voice took on a slightly southern accent that was a perfect mimicry of one of the truckers that Peter had had a run in with earlier that week. "You can tell me, son. Are these fellas _hurting_ you? Blink twice and I'll rescue you."

Peter had to smile at that.

"It's my own fault this time," he admitted.

"I'm listening."

Tony pulled up another chair and Strange sat between him and Natasha, listening with interest as Steve relayed the story from the night before. Peter cringed a little, but Stephen only shook his head again when Rogers was done.

"Any other injuries?" He asked the boy. "You're sure you're alright?"

"Yeah. I'm okay."

"And your ankle?"

"It's okay."

"No pain? Swelling?"

"No."

Peter lifted his foot so Strange could see him move it around in his shoe, and the doctor took hold of it just long enough to feel for any swelling or heat that might indicate a problem. It seemed fine.

"Is his aunt coming tonight?" he asked Stark.

"Tomorrow."

"And if I said that he needs to rest and not get into any trouble…?"

"We'd make him rest and not get into any trouble," Tony replied.

"Do you have any _bubble wrap_?"

Natasha giggled, which made all of them smile.

"We'll keep him out of trouble," Stark promised. "I was thinking we'd show him the rest of the facility, since he hasn't seen it all, and then lunch and then we can all sit around and read romance novels. _Quietly_."

Peter frowned, but Strange wasn't fooled for a moment.

"What do you _really_ have planned?"

"A drive to a little town up north. There's a place I want to check out. I heard it's just the thing for someone getting over an illness."

"What is it?"

"It's a _secret_."

"Is _everyone_ going?"

Tony looked at the others.

"If they want to."

"I can't," Steve said. "I need to wrap up some training schedules for the weekend."

"I've got to clear some things up so my weekend is free," Barton said, still watching the cloak love up to Peter. "I told my wife we'd take the kids to visit their grandma and grandpa."

Strange looked at Natasha, who frowned, looking at Stark and clearly curious what he had planned. Finally she shrugged.

"Sure. I'll go."

"Coming, Stephen?"

He shook his head.

"I'll stay for the tour – and for lunch. But I trust Natasha to keep you boys out of trouble."

OOOOOOOOO

The tour was interesting. Stark knew the facility as well – if not _better_ – than pretty much anyone, and he took Peter and Strange everywhere that the boy had yet to see, and some places that he already had. He described many of the research projects going on – and there were a lot more than just things related to the Avengers, since there was also a medical research area. As Strange already knew. He showed them the control room, and the underground parking area, including all the different kinds of vehicles available depending on the need, as well as the shooting ranges and an area for skeet shooting, or target practice for some of the more advanced weapons systems that were being developed at the facility.

Strange promptly advised Peter to stay away from that entire area.

Natasha joined them in the commissary for lunch, dressed casually in jeans and a polo shirt. She was just as curious as Strange as to what the destination was for their afternoon excursion, but Tony wasn't about to give the secret away, telling them only that Pepper had told him about the place and had tried to get him out there several times.

"Very therapeutic," he said, smiling because he knew it was driving them crazy to not know, and he loved annoying those around him any chance he got.

"Peter won't get hurt?" Stephen had asked. Again.

"Not a chance."

"I'm going to come by and check on him _tomorrow_ , you know?"

"Good. He'll be fine. _Better_ than fine if this place is as good as advertised."

Strange still didn't look convinced by the time they had finished eating, but he had things that he needed to do, and it wasn't fair to leave them all for Wong. He walked with them to the entrance way, where Stark's car was waiting for them, and then reclaimed the cloak from Peter, told them all he'd see them the next day and then vanished.

"Do _you_ know where we're going?" Natasha asked Peter as they got into the car. He opted for the backseat, leaving the front for Natasha and Stark.

"No clue," he admitted.

But he didn't even really care. What they were going to do wasn't nearly as important as who he was doing it with.

"You'll love this place," Stark promised them, getting behind the wheel and turning on the music. "Pepper said she's been there twice, and came away feeling like a new person."

"So it's a _spa_ of some kind?"

Tony shook his head.

"A day at the spa wouldn't interest me," he pointed out. "And I certainly wouldn't drag Peter to one."

They turned off the gravel road onto the highway, and Stark turned the conversation to other things, steering her away from their destination since she was good enough at what she did that she probably could trick him into an early reveal. Instead they discussed what she thought they should teach Peter as far as self-defense, and he listened with interest, visions of Bruce Lee and Jackie Chan floating through his head – although he didn't say it, of course.

Forty-five minutes later, they pulled up to a very small facility that looked a lot like a farm, complete with an area with a rail fence and two black horses watching them with interest when they stopped the car and got out.

There weren't any signs to give away what the business was, and Natasha looked around curiously as they walked into the reception area of the biggest building. A woman came over to them immediately, smiling and offering her hand.

"Mr. Stark. It's a pleasure."

"Thank you," Tony replied. "Is everything ready?"

"Absolutely. We decided just one arena instead of breaking it into three."

"We only need two," he told her, gesturing to Peter and Natasha.

"Ms. Potts called and told me to tell you that you are to include yourself in the therapy. She told me if you refused I was to call her."

Natasha smiled at that, and Stark rolled his eyes.

"Okay. One arena for three, please."

"Arena?" Peter asked, as the woman led them into a hallway with paw prints along the walls.

She nodded.

"You've never done this before?"

"No."

"Then you are in for the best afternoon of your life, young man."

She didn't say anything else, though. She just opened another door and ushered them into a room. There was a small fenced in area, with three cushions on the floor and a bowl of water, with what looked like a doggie door in the wall.

Natasha raised an eyebrow at that, but the woman just motioned them all to have a seat, either on the cushion or next to it.

"Get comfortable," she advised them, leaving through the same door she'd brought them into.

Peter dropped to the floor with the ease of youth, and Natasha did much the same with the ease of long practice. Stark grumbled a little but did as he was told as well, and the three waited. Only for about two minutes, though. Suddenly the dog door opened, and a little black nose stuck itself through the flap. Natasha wasn't the only one to smile when the nose was followed by the fluffiest little face in the world and a roly poly fuzzy body. The puppy spotted her and scrambled over, followed by half a dozen more that looked almost identical to it.

Peter smiled when she found herself suddenly covered in puppies. He didn't recognize the breed, but they had big paws and he remembered reading somewhere that the paws would tell how big the puppy would grow. Before he had too much time to enjoy the way she was being puppy piled, more puppies were churning out through the dog door, and the new arrivals were heading for him and Stark.

" _Puppies_?" Peter asked, picking one up and cuddling it against him as others clamored for his attention, jumping on him and barking excitedly. He couldn't help the grin that was literally ear to ear.

"Nothing beats a puppy pile," Stark told him, picking up a lab puppy who was insistently demanding cuddles and leaning back into the cushion while other puppies climbed on him, licking his face and nibbling on his ears and nose. "Pepper says it's all that keeps her sane."


	100. Chapter 101

"He didn't enjoy himself?" the woman from the reception room asked a little over an hour later when she'd returned to check on her clients.

Tony smiled, and shook his head, looking over at Peter, who had fallen asleep against a cushion with three lab puppies all crowded around him, also snoring softly.

"He loved it," Stark assured her, rubbing the head of one of the black puppies that were still awake and wanting to be cuddled. "But he's been sick and sleeps a lot."

"This was _great_ ," Natasha said, walking over with a puppy in her arms as well and still smiling. The puppy reached up and licked her chin. "I've never heard of it, but I might be back."

"You're very welcome to," the woman told her. "Obviously the puppies change, but the experience is always amazing."

"Do we wake him up?' Natasha asked, looking over at Peter, too. He'd played with the puppies until he'd worn them out, and they'd worn him out.

"No. I'll carry him to the car." He looked at the woman. "Do you have a cushion I can buy from you?"

"I'll find you one," she told him. "Without all the dog hair."

Natasha kissed the top of her puppy's head and set her down. Then she pulled her phone out and took a picture of the sleeping Peter-puppy pile, and then another of Stark with the puppy in his arms.

"Definitely a keeper," she said.

"We'll get a copy to May."

Leaving the puppies in the room, Tony scooped Peter up into his arms and carried the boy outside and waited for Natasha to open the back door for him. They buckled him in as well as he could be, put his head on the cushion and then headed back for the compound, the heat in the back turned up to keep the boy warm.

"What are you planning for tonight?" Natasha asked, feeling about as relaxed as she could ever remember feeling.

"Nothing too strenuous, I think," Tony told her. "If he doesn't sleep all night I'll convince him to play board games or something. I assume he and Ned will spend the weekend playing video games, so I'll save that for them."

"Not cards?"

"Only if _he_ wants to. I could always try to win the jet back, I suppose."

She smiled at that and leaned back into the seat, feeling that it had warmed up, even though she hadn't turned on the switch that controlled it. Stark turned on some light music and when the heater kicked in she figured out almost immediately what he was doing. She didn't mind, though. If he was okay with her napping on the way back, she'd take him up on it.

"Wake me up when we get there," she told him, closing her eyes. "I'll help you get him to bed."

"Okay."

He couldn't carry them both to bed, after all. And she wouldn't sleep so deeply that someone would be able to carry her to bed. Not even after a round of puppy wrangling.

OOOOOOOO

"Did you have a good time?"

Tony nodded, and held up his phone, showing Pepper the picture Romanoff took of him holding one of the puppies. She'd sent both pictures to his phone once they'd put Peter to bed, and had then told him she was going to find something to drink and maybe continue her own nap.

"Oh, that's _adorable_ ," Pepper told him, taking his phone from him and looking at the photo. He looked so relaxed –and honestly as far as she was concerned, a good looking guy only looked better when there was a puppy in his arms. "You didn't bring one home?"

"I don't have time for a puppy," he reminded her, hugging her close and kissing her nose. "You'd be the one that ended up taking care of it. Or Happy, maybe. It wouldn't be fair. Besides, you both have better things to do."

She had to agree with that.

"Did _Peter_ have a good time?"

He took the phone back and swiped to the next photo and handed it back, knowing that she was going to love the picture of Peter sleeping with the puppies. And she did, of course. Her grin was almost foolish, and when he looked at it over her shoulder, he had to smile, too.

"They wore him out."

"Where is he now?"

"Romanoff and I put him to bed. He didn't wake up."

"Does he need anything?"

"Just to sleep."

"Do _you_ need anything?"

"I think I'm going to take a nap, too."

He'd had a short night the evening before, what with being woken up because of the failed readiness drill, and then hadn't slept all that well on the sofa during the movie – and had made sure he was awake early enough to bring Pepper breakfast, even though it hadn't technically been in bed.

Pepper handed him back his phone and put her arms around him, glad that he'd enjoyed himself.

"Want company?"

He smiled and kissed her again.

"Absolutely."

OOOOOOOOO

"So this will keep the magic from making Peter fevered?"

Wong shrugged.

"There's only one way to be sure. But I think it will."

"And won't affect how he feels it?"

"Shouldn't. But again, we'd have to try it to be sure. And it should be a day when he can stay for a while, just to verify."

"Tony probably wouldn't mind letting him stay overnight."

" _He_ could always stay, too."

"An _Avenger_ in the Sanctum…" Strange said with a slight smile. "Who'd have thought that day would come?"

"Peter's illness is not something I would wish on anyone, but it _did_ present a good opportunity, didn't it?"

"Yeah."

Strange knew that he never would have approached the Avengers himself. Not for any reason. There was very little he and Wong couldn't handle, and he knew that he would never have asked the Avengers for assistance if something had come up. But now, well… things changed, didn't they?

"You'll ask him if Peter can come?"

"I'll ask. But his aunt will be there for the weekend, so it wouldn't be until next week at the earliest."

Wong shrugged.

"There is no hurry."

"We can't _keep_ him."

Wong nodded.

"We _could_. But I would not bring the wrath of the Avengers down on the Sanctum. Even if we were cruel enough to try to keep the boy against his will."

Which they weren't. Both men genuinely _liked_ Peter. They wanted to see what he could do with magic, but never if it did something to hurt him, or upset him.

"Besides," Strange said, looking over at the display that held the Cloak of Levitation. "I'm pretty sure we'd have our _own_ revolt on our hands if we were to try something that ridiculous."

The cloak twitched, but didn't respond beyond that. If Peter were there, he'd have felt agreement emanating from the relic, but it wasn't an ability either of the men had.


	101. Chapter 102

His phone woke him. The ringer was off, but the incessant buzzing from the vibrating feature was enough to alert him someone was trying to call. Naturally, it was all it took to wake him from what had been a very restful nap.

Peter frowned as he looked around while pulling his phone out of his pocket. The last thing _he_ remembered was a puppy cuddling up against him, but now he was in his own bed, covered with a blanket and the lights off – although there was still daylight coming in from the window. Not that he needed any light to see who was calling.

"Hey, Ned."

" _Peter! What are you doing?"_

"Sleeping."

" _Seriously? Do they all go to bed so early there?"_

"No. I was just – what's up?"

" _I'm coming tomorrow. Mom's making cinnamon rolls and wants to know if you want her to send up some with me."_

"Yeah."

His mom's cinnamon rolls were pretty much better than anything.

" _Need anything else?"_

"No. When are you coming?"

" _May's going to pick me up at 10 am."_

"Great. I'll see you when you get here."

" _Okay_."

"Don't eat my cinnamon rolls."

" _I'll tell her to send extra to share."_

They ended the call and Peter got up. He felt pretty good – about as relaxed and refreshed as he ever had, and decided the puppy thing was a success. He looked out the window at the field and the woods beyond, but there wasn't much going on in either location and he decided to go look around, or maybe find something interesting to watch. With a Friday evening, he was pretty sure no one was going to be hanging around when they could be somewhere else.

He was right.

The basketball area was empty, there were a few swimmers in the pool – and the hot tub – but he knew better than to try anything in the water without someone with him, and he really didn't want to try swimming anyway. There were people in the commissary eating, and a few greeted him and invited him to sit with them, but he didn't know any of them well enough to want to interrupt the conversations they were having with their peers.

Instead, he opted to go to the lounge, figuring that he could always sit at his table in the corner and people watch.

The lounge wasn't completely empty. There were a few smalls groups of men and women, enjoying a drink or a meal. His table was empty, though, and the chessboard was sitting on the bar nearby, so Peter carried it over and set it up, while watching the people around him. He was beginning to recognize who stayed at the facility on a more permanent basis and those he had figured were the ones who commuted in – or lived elsewhere but stayed at the compound during the week and went home on the weekends.

He didn't, however, know the man who came over and stood next to the table about fifteen minutes after he'd sat down.

"Peter, right?"

Peter nodded. The man was imposing. Large, dark-skinned and wearing an eyepatch that didn't hide a couple of scars. He also had a bruise on his cheek and a small butterfly bandage on his face, and a cast on one wrist.

"I'm Nick."

The man offered Peter his hand, and Peter shook it.

"Hi."

"Can I sit down?"

"Sure."

Peter was coming to rely on those spider senses of his when it came to people he didn't know. He didn't feel threatened by Nick, but the man exuded authority and the same kind of quiet confidence that both Steve and Natasha radiated.

"We haven't met," Nick told him as he sat down. "Well, truthfully we _did_ meet once – while you were sick – but you wouldn't remember that.'

Which made Peter decide that he might have had something to do with the cast and the bandage.

"Do you work here?"

"I'm mostly with S.H.I.E.L.D." Nick told him. "But the Avengers initiative was my baby at the beginning."

"You worked with Natasha, then?"

"Very good. Yes. We go way back."

He gestured to the chessboard, and Peter nodded. They set the pieces back to their starting positions and Nick made the first move, bringing out a pawn.

"I've been out of the country, but I wanted a chance to meet you, officially, and see how you were doing."

"I'm feeling better. Thanks."

Peter brought out his queen's side knight, and the two were quiet for a moment, testing each other with a few simple moves.

"I heard about your run in with our infiltration team last night." Nick said, finally, and he gave the boy a smile before Peter could wonder if he was mad about it – or how many others knew it was him. "I hear _everything_ , Peter. It's my job to know what's going on around here. And everywhere else, really."

"I'm sorry about that. I didn't know it was just a drill."

"No need to be sorry. It sounds like you did everything right, really. It's good to know you're willing to step up if needed. Hopefully you'll be a little more seasoned before you're needed like that, again."

Nick turned his full attention to the game, then, because he'd just lost two pawns before he realized what had happened, and was definitely in danger of losing his queen to Peter's bishop. A minute later, he was in checkmate and honestly had no idea how that had happened.

He smiled, and looked at the boy, who was clearly watching to see his reaction.

"Double or nothing."

"Okay."

Of course, they hadn't bet anything, so double or nothing was as safe a bet as they could have.

OOOOOOOOO

"There he is," Pepper said an hour later when she and Tony walked into the lounge, looking for Peter. Of course, Stark had only had to ask Friday where Peter was in order to locate him and make sure he wasn't in any trouble.

"Yeah."

They headed over to the corner table, and Peter looked up and smiled a greeting to both of them before turning his attention back to the board.

"Back in town?" Tony asked Fury, who scowled and didn't look up from the board.

"Don't bother me, Stark, I'm trying to concentrate."

Tony grinned. There were a lot more white pieces scattered on the side of the board than there were black ones, and the white king looked pretty lonely and forlorn with only a pawn and a knight around him.

"Do I need to ask who's winning?"

"If you _do_ then I'd suggest you have your eyes checked."

Pepper smiled and pulled a chair closer to Peter and sat down.

"Have you eaten?" Tony asked Peter.

"No."

"He doesn't get to eat until we're done," Nick told him.

"How many games have you played?" Pepper asked.

"Seven," Peter answered.

"How many have you won?" Tony asked.

"Six."

"He's doing better than you did, Tony," Pepper pointed out. "He won one."

"Checkmate," Peter said, moving his queen.

Nick sighed, and leaned back, now looking up at them.

"That was the seventh game."

"Oh."

"Were you _betting_?" Tony asked.

"Are you crazy?"

Pepper laughed.

"So now we can eat," Tony said.

"No. I want a rematch."

"That was the _seventh_ game," Stark pointed out. "I'm pretty sure you've _had_ a rematch. It's implied somewhere in there."

Nick looked at Peter.

"You played Stark?"

"Yes."

"And beat him?"

"Yes."

"Every time?"

"Yes."

"They were betting," Pepper added.

"Not helping," Tony told her.

"What did you lose?" Nick asked, curiously.

"I don't remember…"

"A car, a hotdog cart, five dollars and the Quinjet," Pepper told him.

Nick looked over at Peter, who nodded.

"Then maybe I should stop while I'm ahead."

"Dinner, Nick?" Stark asked.

"Yes. Then a rematch."


	102. Chapter 103

"Who taught you how to play chess?" Pepper asked curiously, watching as Stark and Nick played against the boy as a team. Fury had already lost his rematch, and then the tactics had changed when the two had decided that between them they could take Peter down easily, having much more experience than one brash teenager.

It wasn't working very well, though. Both men had very different styles of play, and were almost constantly arguing over which piece to move, and where to move it.

"My friend Ned's mom."

"Is she a grand master or something?"

He smiled and shook his head.

"Not even close. She's not even _good_ at it. I think she was just desperate to keep us from destroying her apartment on a rainy afternoon."

"Check!" Tony crowed, gloating. Nick was grinning, too. Both looked at Peter, expectantly, waiting for his inevitable defeat.

Peter moved his queen to take the knight that was threatening his king, and Fury scowled as the two went back to their plotting, whispering loudly and gesturing to individual pieces.

" _Ned's_ better than I am, really," Peter admitted, still concentrating more on his conversation than on the game.

Before Pepper could reply, Natasha joined them, looking down at the board as she put her hand on Peter's shoulder and smiled a greeting to Pepper.

"Tell me they're not trying to beat you as a _team_ …?"

"Oh, they _are_ ," Pepper replied, even though she knew the remark had been directed to Peter.

"How many games have you played?"

"This is the third," Peter told her.

"And they've won how many?"

"None."

"He isn't Bobby Fischer, Ms. Potts," Fury reminded her, still looking at the board. "He _can_ be beat."

Natasha shook her head.

"Are they betting?"

"The _first_ time they did," Pepper reported. "Peter taught them that lesson quickly."

"Don't you have somewhere to be?" Nick asked her pointedly.

She gave him an innocent look and shook her head.

"What did they lose?"

"A trip to McDonald's."

"That isn't so bad."

"Nick is a lot more conservative than Tony when it comes to betting."

"It's experience," Fury told them, moving their rook.

Peter captured it immediately with a pawn.

"Checkmate."

"I _told_ you to move the queen," Tony told him, double checking to make sure they really were in check and then tipping the king to concede their defeat.

"I would have had you _that_ way, too," Peter pointed out, helpfully. "It would have just taken an extra two moves."

"You're too clever for your own good, young man" Nick told him, shaking his head. "I'm going to bed." He _did_ give Peter his hand again. "It was nice meeting you."

"You, too. Thanks."

"Enough chess for me," Stark said, leaning back in his chair as Natasha took the seat that Fury had just vacated. "One final lesson for the night, and then we can do whatever you want."

"I'm pretty sure your lesson has been learned," Pepper told Tony.

He rolled his eyes.

"Not _me_." He gestured to the watch on Peter's wrist. "I built it, I'm the one to teach you how to really use it."

For the next half hour Natasha and Pepper watched with varying degrees of interest as Tony Stark taught Peter everything there was to know about the new watch he'd been given. Then, just to make sure he understood the lesson, he had Peter use it to broadcast general communications to the entire frequency and then direct ones to both himself and to Natasha separately.

Only when he was absolutely sure Peter was confident with it, did he lean back once more, content that there wouldn't be a repeat of the night before.

"Are you ready for something more relaxing?" he asked, hoping the boy wasn't going to call in the McDonald's debt just then.

"Movies?" Peter asked.

"If that's what you want."

Peter was a movie buff, Tony knew already – and those who were spending any time with him at all were learning.

"Yeah. If you're okay with it."

Stark looked at the others.

"Pepper?"

"Sure."

"Natasha?"

She smiled. It was Friday night and she probably could have found something else to do, but the company was good and after the relaxing day she'd had, a movie sounded like a good way to wind it down.

"Where?"

"Peter's."

That way he wouldn't have to worry about anyone stealing his bed at the end of the night.

OOOOOOOOOOO

"We might want to rethink the _furniture_ in this place," Tony said a short time later as they all crowded together on the single couch in Peter's quarters.

"I think it's _cozy_ ," Pepper disagreed, reaching over Tony for the popcorn Peter was holding.

"That's not the word I'd use."

Natasha smiled, and tossed a blanket over their legs, careful not to spill the popcorn – or the coffee that Tony had brought – or the beer the two women had pulled out of the fridge in Peter's bedroom. Tony and Peter were flanked by Natasha on Peter's side and Pepper on Stark's, and they leaned back into the cushions, getting comfortable. There had been a bit of a dispute when it came to the choice of movie. Not from _Peter_ , who didn't care what they watched, but Tony had groused when it came to a chick flick and the girls had ganged up on him immediately and eventually won. Which wasn't a complete surprise.

It _also_ wasn't a surprise to either of them that both were asleep almost immediately. Peter just couldn't stay awake if there wasn't something going on to keep him occupied – which Strange had warned Tony and Natasha both would happen – and Stark was still catching up on his own lost sleep and wasn't interested at all in the movie. Only in the company he was keeping.

Pepper rolled her eyes and looked over at Natasha about half way through the movie.

"There's ice cream in the commissary."

"What do we do with _them_?"

" _I'm_ not carrying them to bed."

They tucked the blanket around the two, turned off the movie and then turned off the light as they closed the door behind them. Eventually someone would wake up and claim Peter's bed. It was just a matter of time.


	103. Chapter 104

_Tony felt himself fly through the air and didn't have a chance to activate his suit before he hit the wall with a stunning force that left him dazed for a moment._

" _Hold him!"_

 _He shook it off and jumped back into the fray, leaning as much weight as he could against the boy who was struggling in the bed under them, holding him down, trying to keep the arm with the IV from ripping free as Steve suddenly was knocked to the side._

" _Hold him down, Tony…"_

 _Suddenly he was outside, in the Ironman suit and flying for all he was worth, his arms wrapped tightly around the boy he had pinned against his chest, vital signs flashing in his heads-up display. Friday's voice in one ear, Karen's in the other, relaying distances, ETAs and advising that the medics were already gathering._

" _Hold on, Sir…"_

" _He's_ sick _."_

 _Stark looked at Strange, who looked tired and battered, one eye bruised and bleeding._

" _I know."_

" _What do you want me to do? He should be in a hospital."_

" _What can they do? Heal him."_

" _I_ did _."_

 _He was at the pool, and struggling frantically to get free, to rescue the boy splashing in the water so frantically, but Natasha's grip was like iron._

" _It's not what it seems," she told him, calmly. "You have to let him go. He's going to do dumb things and they're going to frighten you. Let him go, Tony…"_

 _Screaming and pandemonium, half a dozen drones coming at him from behind. His AI catching a scene that might have easily been missed in the chaos. The crowd running one way, a small form standing his ground. A repulser blast blowing it to pieces before the worst can happen._

" _Nice work, kid…"_

 _He looked down at the dejected looking boy sitting on the couch, his head in his hands and refusing to look at him._

" _I didn't know it was a drill. I'm sorry."_

 _He pressed his cheek against the boy's, trying to make him understand how important he was, but it had never been his strong suit. Never something he could do. It had almost lost him Pepper, too._

" _You're okay…"_

" _You're not going to hurt this kid again, mister."_

" _Let him go."_

" _I'm going to."_

" _You got him?"_

" _I got him."_

 _Loki flying tail over teakettle before he could throw another tree._

" _I might have overreacted…"_

" _He's going to do dumb things," Natasha said, again. "You have to allow it. You have to let him. Don't hold so close. You have to let him go…"_

Tony woke with a start, pulling himself from the dream and freezing, giving himself a chance to wake up and realize that none of it was real. Well, yes, _real_ , but not happening at that moment. It wasn't his first dream like that, not even close. And not the first one involving Peter.

The room was dark, the TV off and the couch much emptier than it had been when he'd drifted off. There was a deadweight leaning against his side, and he frowned when he realized that the girls had abandoned them to their nap.

Stark debated getting up. He could put Peter to bed and then go find his own, where he wouldn't wake stiff and less rested than before. Or he could stay where he was.

He scowled, and shifted enough to ease the sleeping boy into a more comfortable position, letting him sprawl on the couch with his head pillowed in his lap.

"I don't have to let him go," he muttered to himself as he tucked the blanket back over him.

Maybe eventually, but not _then_. And no time soon. _Someone_ had to keep him from doing the dumb things, after all.

He put his hand on the boy's shoulder, needing a little grounding after the dream, closed his eyes and allowed himself to go back to sleep. This time, it was dreamless.

OOOOOOOOOO

When Stark woke next, he was the one sprawled along the length of the couch, a pillow under his head and the blanket warmly tucked around him. He stretched and looked around, but the room was empty and there were no sounds coming from the bedroom or the open bathroom door. Looking at his watch as he sat up, he swore softly, surprised he'd slept so late. Or that anyone had let him. Of course, it was Saturday morning and he didn't have anything that he absolutely had to do, and those who knew him, knew that.

He got up and headed for his quarters, figuring a shower and a change of clothing was in order, but as always, he needed to check on things, first. He lifted his watch.

"Locate Pepper."

 _"In the lounge."_

"Locate Peter."

 _"Also in the lounge."_

"Okay."

OOOOOOOOO

Peter and Pepper were at the corner table when Tony walked into the lounge twenty minutes later. The chessboard was between them and the remains of what had probably been a hearty breakfast on one side.

He looked at the board as he came up behind Pepper, wrapping his arms around her and kissing her cheek.

"Do I dare ask what you owe him?" he asked her, noting all the white pieces littering the table. He noticed that Peter always seemed to allow his opponent to play white, which was supposed to give an advantage.

" _Australia_ ," she told him, smiling up at him, and reaching a hand up to caress his cheek for just a moment.

"Seriously?"

Peter grinned and Pepper patted his cheek before looking back at the board.

"Of course not."

"We're just playing for fun," Peter told him.

"Besides, there isn't anything else he needs, really. Between you and Stephen, he's got everything a teenager could ask for."

"And then some."

Tony went over to the bar and put in an order for some breakfast, returning just in time to hear Peter put the woman he loved into checkmate.

"I can't wait to see you play Ned," Pepper told him as they started gathering the pieces up and then pushed the board to the side, obviously finished playing for now.

"We probably won't."

Tony sat down between the two and reached out, putting his hand on the boy's forehead.

"Slept well?"

"Yeah."

He didn't feel warm, which probably proved the whole magic related fever thing, and Tony nodded.

"Your aunt should be here around noon, depending on traffic. If she-"

They were interrupted by the sudden appearance of the Cloak of Levitation, streaking toward the table and slapping Stark's side in its eagerness to wrap itself around Peter with a cheerfulness that the boy could feel but the others could read in its very being.

Strange wasn't far behind, walking over to the table, dressed in a sharp suit despite the fact that it was Saturday morning.

"Good morning," he told them, smiling at Pepper and shaking his head at the way the cloak was acting with Peter – like it hadn't seen the boy in months instead of less than a day. "I thought I'd come see what havoc you may have wreaked on my patient since yesterday."

Stark smirked, gesturing for the doctor to sit down.

"He's _fine_. We went and cuddled puppies yesterday."

Strange frowned.

"Is that some odd metaphor I should know?"

Pepper shook her head, holding up her phone, which now sported a wallpaper of the photo Natasha had taken of Tony and the puppy.

"It's a canine therapy I discovered a while ago. They put you in a room and turn a bunch of puppies loose on you. It's amazing for relieving stress."

Strange studied the photo with interest, and then shot Tony a look.

"I imagine you need it, living with him."


	104. Chapter 105

"You know, _this_ might be a problem," Tony said, as Strange sat down across from him.

"What's that?"

"The love affair your cloak is having with Peter. May's going to want to talk to you, and I'm pretty sure she's not going to handle a living blanket very well."

"I can't send it home," Stephen said. "Not only would it not _go_ , but for all I know it'll just come right back on its own."

"It can do that?" Stark asked, surprised.

"We don't really know what all it can do," the doctor admitted. "It didn't come with a manual."

" _Talk_ to it," Pepper suggested. "Maybe it'll pretend to be a normal cloak while May's here. That's all we'd need, right?"

"It doesn't really listen to me," Strange said.

"Peter?"

The boy looked at Stark, moving his head to avoid a caressing corner of cloth. He hadn't really been listening to their conversation since the cloak was all over him, distracting him with its hugging and stroking.

"Yeah?"

"Try to explain to the thing what's going on."

"What?"

"We're going to need it to act normal while May's here."

"It's not going to listen to me."

"You got it to leave you alone in the gym."

Good point. Peter hesitated, thinking that through and then shrugged and stood up, the cloak sticking with him as he did.

"I'll be back."

The three watched as he left, the cloak wrapped around his shoulders, hanging upside down and then righting itself to rub his ears.

"Think it'll listen?" Stark asked.

"It's hard to tell."

"Have you eaten?"

"Yes, but you can talk me into a cup of coffee."

OOOOOOOO

Peter went back to his quarters, the cloak pretty much humming cheerfully in his ear, even though it didn't actually make any audible noise. At least he didn't _think_ that it did. He didn't really understand the connection he had with it, but he knew that it could feel his emotions and he always felt what it was feeling.

He sat down on the sofa, the cloak shifting enough to make sure he didn't sit on it, but not losing contact with him.

"Look," Peter said, picking up the picture of him and May in the park and showing it to the cloak. "This is my aunt May."

A faint feeling of interest, but not much more than that.

"You understand what an aunt is?"

Now the feeling was definitely no, but added to that was disinterest. It didn't know, and didn't care, apparently.

"She's my family," Peter told it. "She raised me when my mom and dad died."

Now there was a feeling of sadness, and cuddling that was clearly intended to reassure. Peter didn't need that, though. He held up the picture again.

"She's in charge of me. She's the one who decides if I stay here at the facility, or if I can go to the _sanctum_. If she gets weirded out by you acting odd, then she might not want me hanging out with Dr. Strange and Wong – or _you_."

 _Now_ there was interest. It still didn't understand, but it was paying attention. It even stopped caressing his cheeks.

"I can't have her freaking out," Peter explained. "If you don't act like a normal cloak when she's around, she'll freak out, and maybe be scared, or be worried that you'll hurt me."

The thing wrapped tightly around him as if to assure him that he was safe with it. Peter nodded.

"I know you won't hurt me." Not on purpose anyway. "But _she_ doesn't. And you can't freak her out. Okay?"

There was a long moment of contemplation and then a feeling of agreement. If Peter didn't know better, he would have thought the cloak was staring at the picture as if to memorize what May looked like.

He reached for the other photo.

"This is my friend Ned," Peter said. "He knows my secret, so you don't have to hide with him. Unless May is with him. Okay?"

More agreement, and then more caressing. Peter stood up and headed for the door, hoping he got the message across, but no way of knowing for sure.

OOOOOOOOO

Tony was eating breakfast, talking with Strange and Pepper, who was telling the doctor about how she had heard of the puppy place in the first place, and had had Stark show him the picture of Peter sleeping with the pile.

"Is the sleeping thing normal?" she asked as Strange looked at the photo and couldn't help but feel a little squishy inside. He might have asked for a copy of it, but he was a master of the mystic arts and figured there was probably a way to create one for himself.

"Stephen?"

He looked up from the photo at Stark, who had said his name to get his attention.

"I'm sorry. What?"

Pepper smiled, because she knew exactly what had held his attention. His expression had been as soft as she'd ever seen it. Tony looked the same way when he looked at the same photo.

"I asked if he should be sleeping so much."

"Oh. Yes. Don't worry, he'll sleep less as he gets stronger. Right now, it's really the best thing for him."

They were interrupted by Peter walking back into the lounge, with the cloak hanging over his shoulder and rubbing his ear with one corner.

"Well?" Stark asked. "How did it go?"

"I'm not sure I explained it right, but it seemed to understand what I wanted."

"But will it _do_ it?" Pepper asked.

"Does it know _what_ to do?" Tony asked, looking at Peter and then at Strange. A lot was riding on the thing not going bat crap crazy with May in the room. Stark definitely didn't want her running away screaming – and maybe taking Peter with her.

"Let's try it," Strange suggested, looking at the cloak. "What are you going to do when Peter's aunt May is here?"

There was only the briefest of hesitation and then the thing dropped onto the boy's shoulder, limp and lifeless and looking for all the world like a piece of thin carpeting hanging there. Only Peter could feel the amusement coming from it as it decided to be an actor and pretend to be a simple piece of outerwear.

Pepper grinned, amused by the whole scene.

"And when she's gone?" Stark asked.

The thing was suddenly animated once more, clinging to Peter's neck and wrapped around his face, caressing his hair.

"I gotta say," Tony said, shaking his head. " _That's_ a little creepy."

"But it'll work," Strange told them.


	105. Chapter 106

They were playing pinochle when Stark's communicator advised him that May and Ned were pulling up to the compound. He and Pepper were killing Peter and Strange, but as bad as the boy was, it wasn't any surprise to any of them. Like Peter's chess games with Pepper earlier, though, they were just for fun – and maybe to see if the phenomenal bad luck could continue. Strange had offered to partner with Peter, even though his skill at the game was negated by Peter's lack of it.

The cloak had been caught several times trying to sneak a card or two from Peter's hand – or steal one from Pepper's if it thought Peter needed it – which amused Peter and Pepper, but the competitive nature of both Stark and Strange were both starting to come through, and it was probably just as well that the game was eventually interrupted.

"They're here," Tony told them, tossing his hand onto the table. "I'll go meet them and settle them in, and bring them here. You two have another word with the rug."

He left and Peter gathered the cards to put them back in the box. May was going to have one of the VIP rooms while visiting, but Ned was just going to sleep on Peter's couch in his quarters. It would save travel time up and down the corridors that way.

"How are you feeling?" Strange asked Peter while waiting.

"Okay."

"Tired?"

"A little."

They probably should have had him nap, but he'd been having fun and no one wanted to take that away from him. Not after the time he'd had of things, lately.

Pepper frowned and reached over, putting her hand on his forehead.

"You're warm."

"I _feel_ warm."

Of course, he'd had the cloak wrapped around his shoulders, body and head for the last several hours, and it was going to leave its mark, being purely magical like it was. Tony had explained it to Pepper, and the other two already knew it had been a possibility.

"No headache, though?" Strange verified.

"No. I'm okay."

"Good."

The cloak suddenly went limp on Peter, giving them all a start, and a motion at the door drew their attention from the cloak to the arrival of May and Ned with Stark. The boy was carrying a cardboard box which he brought over and set on the table as May and Tony followed.

"Hey, Peter. Doctor Strange. Pepper."

"Hello, Ned," Strange said, greeting the boy with a smile.

"What's in the box?" Pepper asked, curiously, as Peter stood up and May came around and hugged him, cloak and all.

Peter felt a moment's irritation from the relic and realized it didn't like being cuddled by strangers, but it was Strange who reached out and caught the corner of fabric that almost automatically came up to slap May's hand away and scowled at the thing, reminding it with a look that it was an ordinary cloak and not to be chastising aunts who just wanted to greet their nephews. The thing drooped again, and Peter smiled at May as she stepped back.

"My mom made cinnamon rolls," Ned replied to Pepper. "Want one?"

"Of course."

"You look _tired_ ," May told Peter, reaching out and pressing her hand against his forehead. "And still fevered?"

"It comes and goes," Strange told her, pulling a chair up for her. "We're working on it."

"I'll get plates," Pepper said, leaving the group for a moment to go to the bar and get forks and plates. Yeah, it was almost lunch time, but homemade cinnamon rolls were never to be declined.

May sat down and frowned.

"What are you wearing?"

"It's a _cloak_ ," Peter told her, holding up one of the corners. "It's Dr. Strange's, but it's pretty cool, so he lets me wear it when he's here."

She reached out and felt the fabric, and Peter held his breath as he once more felt a wave of annoyance coming from the cloak. But it didn't move.

"I imagine it's warm," May said, letting it go and smiling at him again, unable to stop from reaching out and touching his cheek. She didn't ask him about the cut lip, and probably didn't even recognize that there was a new bruise. "How's he doing, doctor?"

"He's coming along nicely," Strange told her with a reassuring smile. "We're trying to get some weight back on him, and he does tire quickly, but he's getting there."

Ned opened the box when Pepper brought the plates over and started dishing up rolls to everyone.

Tony frowned when the boy handed Peter a plate that had two on it.

"Are you sure you should have that?" he asked.

"My mom said he was to have two and let her know if they were as good as usual," Ned said. "They _are_ , of course."

"But what about the nutmeg thing?" Tony asked, ignoring Ned in favor of looking at Strange.

"They're _cinnamon_ rolls, Tony," Stephen reminded him.

"But-"

"Even if she mixes the spices, it's only _raw_ nutmeg that will hurt him. He's fine."

Ned put a plate in front of Tony.

"Try it, Mr. Stark. No one bakes better than my mom."

"He's right," Peter agreed. He didn't wait to see if Tony was going to make a fuss about the cinnamon rolls, he was already starting in on his. Breakfast had been a ways off, and the rolls were a treat.

Strange accepted a plate with a smile of thanks to Ned, and the table was quiet for a minute as everyone had a roll. They were still warm since Ned's mom had put a heating tray in the bottom of the box and there was no doubt that they were fresh from the oven.

Stark ate his, but was watching Peter carefully, clearly concerned.

"What do you have planned for the weekend?" Strange asked Tony, trying to distract him from being so anxious. Especially when there was no reason to be.

"I thought we'd show May around a little. She hasn't seen much of the facility."

"I have," Ned said, finishing his second roll.

Of course he had. When he hadn't been helping Strange with his plant research, he'd been all over the place, poking his head anywhere they'd let him, checking the place out.

"You might try that puppy place," Strange advised. "May might enjoy something like that."

And it was obvious she was stressed out about Peter's illness.

"Puppy place?' May echoed.

"Oh, is it puppy therapy?" Ned asked. "I've heard about it."

Of course he had. Ned read everything that was available.

The conversation turned to the place that Peter and Tony had been to, which led to Stark showing the pictures of him and the puppy and Peter sleeping with the puppies.

"We could set something up for tomorrow," Stark offered. "If you're interested?"

She hesitated, looking at Peter.

"Would you be willing to go again?"

"Sure."

"Stephen can go with you guys this time," Pepper suggested, hiding a smile when the doctor looked over at her, sharply. "He's been looking fairly stressed, lately, too."

"Must be the company he keeps," Tony said, taking a sip of his coffee to hide his smirk.

If _he_ was going to be mauled by puppies again, it was a sure bet that he was going to have company.

"Sounds like fun," Strange told her.


	106. Chapter 107

Strange stayed at the Avengers facility through lunch, which was eaten in the lounge amidst several different conversations. Pepper and May discussed work. They talked about how their week had gone, and May told Pepper about the surprise visit from Peter and Tony and how her coworkers had reacted to meeting Ironman himself – even though he hadn't activated the suit during the visit. Tony listened and would interject a comment or two when asked, but really, he was watching Peter to make sure he wasn't going to have a reaction to the cinnamon rolls he'd eaten. Ned was talking to Peter, mostly, but also directing the conversation to Strange so he wouldn't feel left out. Mostly telling them about the new girl in their math class who had been impressed by his selfie with Captain America.

By the time they were finished with lunch, Peter and Dr. Strange had learned everything they'd ever want to know about the new girl and all the things she liked, and Peter had commented that yes, Steve was around somewhere and maybe would be willing to take another photo – although Peter wouldn't make any promises. He did point out, however, that if Stark wasn't busy sometime that weekend, maybe he would be willing to take a picture with Ned as Ironman. That would probably impress the new girl – and everyone else in their class, most likely.

Finally, Strange excused himself, saying he needed to get back to the city and check on some work he'd been working on. Especially if he was going to be back the next day for the puppy thing. Really, though, he was concerned that the cloak had been quiet for so long it might forget it was supposed to be behaving and give itself away at a wrong moment.

"Walk me out, Peter," he said, standing up and nodding goodbye to the others.

"Okay."

With the cloak still hanging limply down his back, Peter walked out of the lounge with Strange, pretending to head for the garage, since May certainly didn't know how the doctor was really going to get home.

As soon as they were out of sight, the cloak was suddenly animated again, tightening its hold on peter and caressing his cheek.

"I'd stay longer," Strange told him, honestly, "But I think we'd be pushing our luck."

"Yeah." The boy smiled. "It did good, though, didn't it?"

"Yes. Much better than I had imagined. Good job."

"I didn't do it," Peter pointed out. "You'll be back tomorrow?"

Strange nodded.

"Apparently." He looked at the cloak. "Time to go home."

The Cloak of Levitation stroked Peter's cheek for another moment and then transferred itself over to Strange's shoulders.

"Tell Wong hi for me."

"I will. Get some rest, okay?"

The doctor was gone a moment later and Peter went back to the lounge, where the adults were finishing their coffee, and Ned was playing with the pinochle deck while waiting for Peter to return.

"Mr. Stark told me you went for a ride in the jet," Ned told him when Peter came and sat down beside him.

"Yeah. It's pretty cool."

"Can we go look at it?" he asked Stark.

Tony shrugged.

"Why not?"

Peter looked over at May, wondering how she'd feel about that. She'd driven up to see him, after all. He didn't want her thinking he was ignoring her. Luckily she understood the look and shooed him away.

"Go ahead. I'll either be here, or maybe in my rooms. Come find me for dinner, okay?"

He nodded and Ned grabbed his arm, pulling him toward the door. The three adults watched them go.

"I hope he takes a chance to get some rest," May said. "He looks worn out."

"He'll be fine," Tony assured her. "How about that tour I promised you?"

"You don't have anything you need to be doing?"

"On a Saturday? Nope. I'm all yours." He looked at Pepper. "Coming?"

"Sure."

OOOOOOOOO

"Whoa…"

The jet was impressive up close, as Peter already knew, but he was enjoying the reaction his friend was having to it. They were standing under it, touching what they could and admiring the sleek lines of the jet.

"We dropped parachutists when Clint took me up," Peter told Ned. "Then he did some barrel rolls and all kinds of crazy maneuvers."

"That's cool."

"Yeah."

"It's more fun on the _inside_ ," a voice told them from behind.

Both boys turned and saw that Natasha Romanoff had joined them on the jet's landing pad without a sound. Ned knew who she was from the time they'd played Spoons together and smiled at her, but she gave Peter a friendly hug and kissed his forehead by way of greeting.

"Want me to open it up for you so you can go inside?"

"Can we?" Ned asked, excited.

"Sure."

She did just that and the three of them walked up the ramp, entering the jet from the back and Ned made a beeline for the cockpit, hopping into the pilot's seat and touching everything while he checked out the controls and everything else that he could classify from either something he'd watched, read or a flight simulator game that he had played.

"I like your friend," Natasha told Peter from the area the jumpers had been in. "He's enthusiastic."

"Yeah. He's smart."

"Think he'd be interested in those simulators I was telling you about?"

"Are you kidding?"

"It's Saturday, so no one will be using them right now."

"You're not too busy?"

"No. I have all the time you need, really."

She smiled, her arm around his shoulder while they watched Ned for a few minutes, and then Natasha called him into the back to give him the official tour of the jet, first, showing him details he had missed. Then she offered a chance to use the flight simulator.

Ten minutes later they were heading for the training area of the facility, and even though flying wasn't something Peter ever intended to do when he got older, he was as excited as Ned was about the whole idea.


	107. Chapter 108

Like most teenagers, Peter and Ned could have played on the simulator all day. As it was, they were on them until Stark finally called them on Peter's watch, telling them that it was time to meet for dinner and ordering them to the lounge as soon as they could break free of whatever it was they were doing. The food was on the table and they weren't going to get anything but scraps if they didn't get there soon.

Natasha ended up pulling the plug – figuratively and not literally – when she realized that they still weren't in a big hurry to get where they needed to be, no matter who was calling. Of course, they both knew there was an entire refrigerator in Peter's room, with everything from junk food to old KFC in it, so they knew they wouldn't starve. Plus any cinnamon rolls left over. Smiling to find herself wrangling not one, but _two_ , teens, she pulled them out of their pilot seats with good natured ribbing and walked with them to the lounge. She was hungry, too.

Stark, May and Pepper had been joined by Steve and there were two other chairs around the largest table in the lounge. They had a large bowl of pasta, a bowl of sauce and a basket of rolls on the table. It was a simple matter to pull up another chair and grab an extra plate and cutlery when they saw Natasha was with the boys.

Tony gave her a smile.

"Where were they?"

"Quinjet simulator," she answered, sitting beside Steve and leaving the spot next to May for Peter, while Ned sat between Peter and Pepper.

"How'd they do?" Rogers asked, curiously.

She shrugged.

"It's a video game to them. They killed it."

Which was true. It had taken the boys less than half an hour to become experts on the simulator. Of course, if they were really _flying_ it would be completely different, but treating it as a video game with no worries about actually crashing had simplified things and both boys were ready to dogfight in no time – and had spent most of the time doing just that.

"Peter's better than me," Ned told Steve. "But that's only because he has quicker reflexes, of course. He killed me about 80% of the time."

"A good margin."

"Yeah."

"You should see Clint flying the thing," Pepper told them. "He's amazing."

"I _saw_ the real thing," Peter reminded her, reaching for a roll from the basket. He looked at May. "You should try it sometime."

"I think that would be a bad idea."

"Not a good flyer?" Tony asked.

"No."

"I threw up in the elevator once," Ned told them, reaching for a roll, also.

"We'll make sure _Clint_ takes you up, then," Steve said, smiling.

"I already warned him," Peter told him.

While they ate Peter asked May about her tour and what she'd seen, and she tried to tell him everything. Tony and Pepper added a few comments, reminded her of some of the areas, but the group pretty much left the conversation to the boy and his aunt, knowing that she was missing having him home with her and despite the distractions at the Avenger facility, he was probably missing her as well.

"I've got us lined up for the puppy arena at noon," Tony said, when the last of the food was gone and they were nursing coffee cups and letting their meal digest a little.

"You're doing the puppy thing, again?" Natasha asked, smiling.

"Want to come?" Stark asked, well aware that she'd had a good time.

"You don't mind?"

"Of course not."

"I'd love to."

"Steve?"

"I can't," Rogers told them. "I'd end up wanting to bring them all home with me."

"Seriously?'

"I have no willpower when it comes to puppies. Besides, they're setting up some obstacle courses for a Monday run, so I should probably be here for that."

"Cool."

"What are you boys going to do tonight?" May asked Peter and Ned.

"There's a PS4 in Peter's quarters," Ned told her. "He hasn't even tried it out, yet."

"But I don't _have_ to," Peter told her, sincerely. "What do you want to do?"

She smiled at that, and shook her head. It was sweet of him to be willing to spend time with her instead of Ned, but she knew he wanted to play video games. And she didn't want to play video games, or even watch someone else play them.

"I think a quiet evening in my room watching TV is just the thing after the week I've had. You don't mind playing with Ned, instead of hanging out with me?"

"You're sure?"

"Absolutely."

Stark had to take a sip of his coffee to hide his smile. She was so good at the mother thing. Of course, she had far more practice at it than he had at the dad thing, but he was watching her and would learn as he went along. He knew she wanted to spend time with the boy but was willing to let him have whatever fun he could have, instead. That was sacrifice. He was still learning that in his relationships.

"We're leaving at 11 am," Peter told the boys as they excused themselves and stood up. "Do not stay up all night playing video games and eating junk food."

"Okay."

They left and Steve shook his head.

"You realize they're going to stay up all night playing video games and eating junk food, right?"

"Especially since we just had the fridge in Peter's room stocked," Pepper added.

"Peter's been up all day and hasn't had a chance to get a nap. I doubt he'll last too long," Tony predicted, leaning back in his chair. "Do you play Pinochle, May?"

"I do."

OOOOOOOO

Stark was wrong about Peter. Video games were not passive, like movies, or riding in cars, or even hanging out with tired puppies, and Ned was nowhere near as relaxing a visitor as Stark or Strange. The boys had a brand new video games system to learn, a stack of games – everything from racing, to fighting to a flight simulator that they completely ignored after the fun of the afternoon – and a fridge full of junk food.

The sun was coming up over the trees and glaring through the window in Peter's bedroom by the time they finally had to call it a day. They had decimated most of the junk food – including a beer that they had split on a dare – and had worked their way through all the games that held any interest. They left the dancing simulator and the Rock Star game, because they couldn't dance, and they couldn't sing, but they had a grand time, and when Peter finally pulled a blanket out of his bedroom for Ned to use, he had to admit that he was pretty tired and probably shouldn't have stayed up quite so late.

But done was done, and even if he was tired that day, it'd be worth it.


	108. Chapter 109

" _Peter?"_

Peter grumbled and rolled over, away from the voice that was trying to wake him up. It was way too early for anyone to be up and about yet.

A hand shook his shoulder, carefully but insistently.

"Hey, wake up."

He sighed and rolled back, opening his eyes to find that Dr. Strange was sitting on the edge of his bed, dressed in jeans and a pullover sweatshirt, clearly amused. Peter decided absently that he probably didn't want dog hair on one of his suits.

"It can't be morning already," Peter told him, not even bothering to lift his head.

"The morning is almost over," Strange assured him. "Wake up so we can get going. Your aunt and the others are already assembling."

He sat up, and realized something was missing. He wasn't being mauled, and there was no magical tingle.

"Where's your cloak?"

"It decided not to come with us."

"Really? How did you manage that?"

"I reminded it that you needed it to act like a regular piece of fabric all day, and then Wong and I showed it YouTube videos of what puppies do to carpets, rugs and various pieces of fabric. When I left, it was hanging out in the library."

Peter smiled at that and looked for his shoes.

"Smart."

"I thought so, too. It's very old, but sometimes a little naïve. Are you awake? We have to stop and get Natasha as well. She's right next door, right?"

"Yeah."

They left Peter's rooms and entered the corridor just in time to meet Natasha coming out of her door. She looked harried and a little rumpled. Strange smiled.

"Good morning. I was just sent to get you."

"Sorry," she said, running her fingers through her hair. "I slept through my alarm."

"Oh?"

She flashed a look at Peter, who couldn't miss the good-natured gleam in her eyes, even though her tone was serious. "Apparently my neighbor decided to stay up all night playing video games with his friend. _Loud_ video games, with lots of yelling and explosions."

He frowned.

"Sorry, Natasha."

"You're forgiven. But you owe me breakfast since I'm going to miss mine, now."

"Easily taken care of," Strange told her, holding up his hand. A bag appeared in it and he handed it to her.

Natasha opened it and smiled. A yogurt, a breakfast sandwich and a banana.

"I owe you one, Stephen."

He shook his head.

"I owed _Peter_ breakfast, and now I don't."

"Technically, I never got the _first_ breakfast you owed me," Peter reminded him as they headed down the corridor.

"Fine."

Another bag appeared and he handed it to the boy. Peter opened it.

"I don't like bananas."

The banana became an orange.

"Better?"

"It's _banana_ yogurt."

Strange sighed, gave the boy a look that made Natasha smile and the yogurt became strawberry.

"Happy?"

"I don't really like yogurt," Peter admitted.

"I am going to toss you into a mud puddle first chance I get."

Natasha laughed at that. Like Strange, she was wearing jeans and a sweatshirt. Peter noticed when they walked by a window that the morning sun he'd seen when he'd gone to bed had given way to clouds and rain, and he wasn't wearing anything heavier than a t-shirt. He kind of wished the cloak _had_ come, now.

Because of the weather they headed for the indoor parking area, and Peter saw Stark, Pepper, May and Ned all standing by the limousine. It made sense, since there were more of them for this trip. Happy was leaning against the driver's door, chatting with May, obviously ready to be their driver. They were all dressed in jeans and sweatshirts. Clearly everyone else had looked out the window before getting dressed.

All of them looked up when they arrived.

"Are we ready?" Tony asked.

"I believe so," Strange replied as Happy opened the door and they got in.

Tony frowned at Peter, noticing immediately that he wasn't dressed for the weather.

"It's _raining_."

"I didn't notice," he admitted.

"There's probably a sweatshirt in the trunk," Happy assured him, closing the door.

The limo was spacious, as it was designed to be, and Ned took a window seat facing backward, with Tony and Pepper and May beside him. Peter sat across from them, Strange seated between him and Natasha.

"Did you have a good night?" May asked. "You look tired…"

"No. Yeah," Peter assured her. "It was great."

"For the record, your aunt is a much better card player than you are," Tony told him.

Peter nodded, and opened his bag to pull out the breakfast sandwich, noticing that Natasha was doing the same on the other side of Strange.

"I know."

"He's better at _chess_ , though," May said, fondly.

" _That_ we know he's good at," Pepper said, looking at Stark and then at Strange. They both scowled, which made Pepper smile.

OOOOOOOO

The rain was easing off when they arrived at the puppy therapy location. Just as well, since there wasn't a sweatshirt in the trunk. Strange winked at Peter and told Happy to look again, and this time there _was_ one.

"You're a handy guy to have around," Natasha murmured to the doctor as Happy held the door for everyone, and handed out umbrellas as each got out.

Peter didn't bother with the umbrella, he just put up the hood of his sweatshirt, counting his lucky stars that Strange hadn't made it a purple one, or pink and polka dotted. After the breakfast thing, he supposed he probably would have deserved it.

The same woman from before met them in the lobby, smiling at them and genuinely pleased to see the group clearly dressed for playing with puppies.

"I wasn't sure," she told Stark as they greeted each other. "Did you want to all be together in one arena?"

Tony looked at Pepper.

"All together, I think," she decided.

That way she could make sure she got photos of everyone with at least one puppy.

They were led down the same hallway but into a different room. This one was larger than the one they'd been in before, but otherwise the same.

"You're going to like this," Peter told May, dropping to the floor next to one of the cushions and watching as the others did the same. Ned came over and sat down near him, as well.

They didn't have to wait long. Once the door had closed behind the woman, it was less than a minute before the first nose appeared through the puppy door, and then the barrage started. Presumably in deference to the larger group there were a lot more puppies. Peter had to wonder briefly where they got so many, but assumed that they were farm dogs or something.

May smiled when a poodle looking puppy came rushing over to her, and she was just picking it up when a much larger, still curly haired puppy also ran over, demanding attention from her as well. Soon she was covered in puppies, as were all the others. Ned didn't even bother to protect himself. He flopped down onto his back, puppies in his arms and now scrambling onto his legs and chest as well.

Peter picked up a black lab puppy and cuddled, it, watching the others as they were buried in various puppy piles, and smiled when he saw Strange holding a yellow lab puppy in one arm, which was frantically trying to lick his face, while fending off some kind of collie puppy with the other as it tried to do the same thing. As Peter watched, three more puppies joined in and even the doctor was swarmed over and ended up on his back, disappearing under a writhing mass of fuzziness.

Before Peter finally gave in to the cuteness overload, he saw Tony and Pepper sprawled beside each other, clearly having a good time as they watched each other not even bothering to avoid wagging tails, licking tongues and the inevitable chewing on ears and noses. He grinned, looking down at the black puppy in his arms, and then lay back into the cushion and allowed himself to be buried in therapy. It was just as fun the second time as it had been the first.


	109. Chapter 110

"This was a great idea," Stark admitted to Pepper an hour or so later, when things were wrapping and the woman from the reception area had come back to check on things. Everyone was still enjoying themselves – puppies never got boring, since even the ones that had fallen asleep were still adorable – and there had been a flurry of photo taking.

She nodded, finally putting her phone away and pleased to see him looking so relaxed, still.

"I told you so."

"I thought we promised each other we weren't going to say that?"

"No." She kissed him, and then got to her feet, stretching out a little. " _You_ don't get to say it to me, but I still get to use it when it's valid."

"Oh."

Tony stood up as well, still cradling a curly-haired puppy in his arms as he looked around, automatically checking on the others.

Peter and Ned were getting up, and Peter reached down to help May to her feet while Ned put his phone away. Tony was a bit surprised that Peter hadn't fallen asleep. He was well aware that the boys _hadn't_ gone to sleep early, having gone by Peter's quarters a couple of times the night before to check on him, only to hear the sounds of video games and explosions. He hadn't even stopped to say hi, figuring that eventually they would have to sleep. But he knew they had been up until at least the early hours of the dawn. That was when he'd finally gone to bed, after all.

Stephen was pulling Natasha to her feet, the good doctor still holding a puppy in one arm and smiling at something Romanoff said as she got up. He looked refreshed and relaxed as well, and so did Natasha. He wondered if puppy therapy should be an Avenger group activity from here on out – except for Steve, because the last thing the facility needed was a ton of puppies running rampant through the halls.

"Everyone into the car," Tony told them, setting his puppy down. "And no puppies are to be snuck into it. I don't want to have to do a cavity check, people."

"That's gross, Tony," Pepper said, carefully wading through puppies to reach the door, which Ned was holding for everyone, while Peter was making sure none of the puppies followed them.

"Just setting expectations, dear."

They thanked the woman and the skeletal staff on their way out. It had been a last minute booking and they'd been incredibly accommodating, and she told them to have a good day.

The rain was coming down harder than before and Happy met them at the door, once more with umbrellas. He handed one to each of them, but held Pepper's for her as he walked with them to the car.

"Did you have a good time?"

"You should have joined us," Tony heard Pepper tell him. Again.

Tony knew that he had _planned_ to, but then he'd seen the farm setting and had told Stark that he would rather look around instead. Happy rarely had a chance to just hang out and do nothing more exciting than wander through barns and kennels, even on a Sunday. It had been relaxing for him.

"Everyone hungry?" Tony asked, once the door was closed and all umbrellas stowed in the front.

There were assorted positive reactions to that, and the car turned out of the drive and once more headed north.

"There's a place up the road that serves a great Sunday buffet," he told them.

He'd never actually been there, so he didn't know how great it really _was_ but the reviews had been good, and he wanted to stuff Peter with a big lunch to make up for what he knew hadn't been a big breakfast.

While they drove the relatively short distance, May, Ned and Pepper started showing photos that they had taken of the puppies and people playing with them, and since he was sitting right in the middle of them, Tony had a good opportunity to see many of them – and a lot of them were ones that he was sure Pepper would get from the others, so he didn't need to ask for any copies for himself.

They pulled up to the restaurant long before they ran out of pictures to look at, and Happy pulled into the valet area, which was covered, so no one would need umbrellas. He held the door for everyone, and when Tony got out, he slapped his friend's side.

"Park the car and come join us, or you're walking home."

It wasn't the best threat but it wasn't supposed to be. He wanted to make sure Happy knew he was invited to dinner, too.

"Will do."

The place was busy, but they had a reservation so they didn't have to wait. Besides, it was _Tony Stark's_ name on the reservation and the staff had been prepared. They were led to a small room off to the side, with a table set for eight and several wait staff to make sure their beverages never got below half full and there were plenty of napkins. Happy joined them only a few minutes after they were seated, and he and Natasha sat with Strange, and Ned, across the table from where Tony was seated.

It wasn't a large table and Tony sat between Pepper and Peter, listening to her talk mostly to Ned, and watching as May spent a little more time with her nephew before they had to leave later that day.

"Did you have a good time?" Tony asked Peter when there was a lull in the conversation.

The boy nodded.

"Yeah. Thanks."

"Did May?"

"I think so."

"Good." He stood up. "Let's go get something to eat."

The food _was_ good, and there was a large assortment, everything from pot roast and potatoes to all kinds of seafood and every side anyone could hope for. There was also a dessert area with pies, cakes, tarts and all kinds of ice cream and sundae fixings.

Stark and May both watched with approval as Peter went back for seconds twice before he finally slowed down and eventually had to push his plate away.

"You forgot dessert," Tony pointed out.

"No room."

Now the boy was beginning to look tired as the lack of sleep the day before was catching up on him. He wasn't the only one, though. Ned was looking sleepy and even Natasha looked like she was having trouble keeping her eyes open. Tony decided that she wasn't used to noisy teenager neighbors and had probably been kept up late the night before as well. A friendly fire victim to an evening of Call of Duty 900 and Grand Theft Auto 75. Or whatever number they were on.

Happy went to get the car and they piled into the limo once more, not quite as noisy as they had been when leaving the puppy place. May and Pepper were still exchanging photos on their phones with Ned, who had his phone out at every chance and was a selfie king from what Tony had heard. From what Tony could make out, the boy had taken some great shots, and Pepper and May were now pretty much giving him a list of the photos they wanted him to share with them.

When Stark looked up from his own phone to check on Peter again he smiled. The boy had barely made it out of the parking lot. He was curled up on the leather seat of the limo with his head on Stephen's leg, sound asleep and looking far more comfortable in the position than Tony would have been. The doctor had his hand resting lightly on the boy's shoulder, which would help if they had to make any sudden stops.

On the other side of Stephen, Natasha hadn't lasted much longer than Peter. She, too, was asleep, with her head against Strange's shoulder, her sweatshirt hood making a little pillow against him. Tony caught Stephen's eye, amused to find the man he had initially pegged as standoffish at best in such a position. Clearly Strange was just as surprised to find himself there. Tony smirked and then lifted his phone and snapped a photo, figuring he'd never see that particular scene again. Probably had a better chance of capturing the loch ness monster riding on a big foot, waterskiing with a chupacabra.

"I want a copy of that" Pepper whispered, also watching the seat across from them.

Strange rolled his eyes, but didn't move to avoid waking either of them up.

OOOOOOOOOO

"How did _I_ end up with the scrawny teenager and you got the beautiful woman?" Tony asked Stephen a little more than an hour later.

They had reached the Avenger facility, and by the time they arrived, Ned had fallen asleep as well. None of the sleepers had woken when they stopped, and showed no sign of being willing to wake up. Happy had simply scooped Ned up into his arms, telling them he'd carry the boy to one of the guest rooms and a real bed instead of the couch in Peter's room, leaving Tony and Stephen to take the other two.

Tony had carefully picked Peter up, automatically. May had offered to help with him, but he declined, telling her that he'd settle Peter and meet her and Pepper in the lounge. Strange had hesitated for a moment, but then picked Natasha up, easily carrying her, but a little worried that if she woke now, she might automatically pull a blade, like she had when she'd been worried the cloak was going to harm Peter. With his hands full and no cloak to protect him, he was as vulnerable as anyone, really.

Instead she'd mumbled something and tucked her head against his jaw, clearly willing to be carried to bed rather than have to walk.

"It just proves what I knew two minutes after I met you, Tony…" Strange said, softly, as they went through the garage door that Pepper was holding for them.

"What's that?"

"I'm way smarter than you."


	110. Chapter 111

Once Strange had put Natasha to bed, simply pulling off her shoes and making sure she was warmly covered, he joined Tony back in Peter's room. He wanted to be able to tell May the latest on her nephew's condition before she left, and figured that he could give him a quick check even if he wasn't awake to answer the standard questions.

With Stark hovering he double checked the bruises but didn't find any swelling – and he didn't _expect_ to – and then he took his pulse and checked the fever. It was lower than the evening before, for obvious reasons and the boy was sleeping soundly and probably would at least through dinner.

'Well?" Tony asked, once Strange covered Peter back up.

"He's fine."

The two men left Peter's room and headed for the lounge.

"You'll tell May that? Keep her from worrying?"

"Sure. What do you have planned for the next few days?"

"Nothing strenuous," Stark told him. "We're going to have him observing some obstacle courses tomorrow, to give him an idea of the capabilities of the people around him, but he's not going to be invited to run them. Did you have something in mind?"

"Wong thinks we might have the fever thing figured out. He wants to try it. But we'd need to have him for a day, at least."

"Is it a spell?"

"In a sense. Nothing that will hurt him, though. _You_ can come, if you want."

"Monday night into Tuesday?"

"That would work."

"I'll let Peter know when he wakes up."

"Are you going to come?"

"I'll come. I might not stay, though."

"Whatever makes you most comfortable with the whole thing."

"I'd be most comfortable if he didn't have the fevers," Stark said. "So we'll do what we need to, and see if Wong's thing works."

"Good."

They were talking about the obstacle course as they walked into the lounge, and Pepper and May were sitting at one of the tables, looking at their phones. Neither man needed to look over their shoulders to know they were looking at photos of puppies.

May looked up when they approached.

"How is he?"

"Sleeping," Strange told her, truthfully. "Hopefully he'll do a lot of that this week. It's what he really needs."

"No relapse?"

"As long as he stays off his feet and we get some weight back on him. He should be well enough to go home next week."

She smiled at that, obviously relieved.

"Do you have time for a game of cards before you have to go?" Tony asked, looking not only at May (who had to wait for Ned to wake up before she could leave) but also at Strange.

Both of them nodded.

OOOOOOO

It was a tingling that woke Peter next. A magical tingling that was _like_ the feeling that the cloak gave him, only magnified by so much that he couldn't even compare it. He wasn't sure if it was painful, but it was definitely uncomfortable, and he whimpered softly when he woke. There was a pressure against his head, like the vibrations were trying to escape through his skull but couldn't, and Peter pulled a pillow over his head in a vain attempt to drown out whatever it was that was doing it.

Paralyzed by what he could only classify as pain, now that it was getting worse, Peter clutched the pillow and tried to take deep breaths, hoping it would help. It didn't. He sat up, thinking that whatever it was hurting him might be too close. Maybe he could get some distance between it and him. That idea worked only as long as it took him to stand up. Then a blast of pain shot through him greater than anything that Loki could have ever done and he crumpled to the floor, unconscious.

OOOOOOOOO

 _"Peter!"_

Hands were lifting him, picking him up, voices babbling all around him. He opened his eyes and looked into Tony Stark's very concerned eyes.

"Mr. Stark…"

"Yeah."

Tony had put him in his bed, and was now sitting on the edge of it, leaning over him. Over Stark's shoulder he could see Natasha, who was also looking concerned.

"What happened?"

"You tell me," Stark replied, his hand on Peter's forehead. "You're burning up, and you apparently fell out of bed. Are you okay?"

"What?"

Peter tried to sit up, but Tony's hand was against his chest, holding him down.

"I just found you on the floor."

"Did you have a nightmare, Peter?" Natasha asked, sitting next to Tony.

He shook his head.

"No. I don't think so. Where's May?"

"She had to go," Natasha told him. "We tried to wake you, but you were pretty well out of it."

"And now you're sleeping on your floor," Tony told him, still obviously concerned about the whole thing.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Natasha said. "Are you okay?"

He nodded.

"I think so. I don't remember anything… just the puppies, and eating… and _polka dots_ …?"

Stark frowned, looking over at Natasha, who shrugged.

"No headache?" Tony asked, his hand going to Peter's forehead, again. Natasha did the same, and she frowned as well.

"He's hot."

"Yeah."

"I'm okay," Peter told them, feeling foolish laying on his back like he was. He sat up, and this time Stark let him, and helped him, even though he didn't need it. "When did May leave?"

"About an hour ago," Natasha told him. She nudged Stark. "She asked _Tony_ to pass on a message."

"Which I respectfully declined," Stark said, scowling.

"A message?" Peter repeated. "What?"

Natasha smiled, and nudged Stark again.

"You _promised_."

There was a sigh, and then to Peter's shock Tony pulled him into a hug and kissed his cheek.

"She loves you and misses you and if we _ever_ speak of this again I will deny it ever happened, _understand_?"

Natasha laughed, both because Stark was so uncomfortable and because Peter looked like he'd been hit by a truck.

"I would have passed the message on, but I was asleep when she made the request."

"We tried to wake you up," Tony repeated. "There was someone I wanted you to meet."

"Who?"

"Just a guy I know. _Made_ , really. Sort of."

"What?"

"His name's _Vision_ ," Natasha explained. "You'll like him."

"But you slept through his visit, so now you'll have to wait until he's back."

Peter nodded, and rubbed his face, tiredly. He _did_ feel warm. Although he felt okay.

"Are you ready for dinner?" Romanoff asked.

"Yeah."

Stark frowned.

"You're sure you're alright?"

"Yeah."


	111. Chapter 112

Natasha and Stark walked with Peter to the lounge. Natasha had an arm around Peter's shoulder, not hovering but just seeming to enjoy the contact with him, but Stark was watching the boy's every step, waiting for a stumble or any tell that would indicate something was wrong. Peter would have been annoyed except for the distraction Natasha was giving him. Which might have been the whole idea, of course.

"Chicken and potatoes, Peter," Tony told him as they entered the lounge.

"Sounds great."

Stark went to the bar, and Peter and Natasha went to a table.

The lounge was empty. It was a Sunday night and everyone in the facility was gearing up for their workweek, or starting it early if they worked with European counterparts. Natasha watched Peter as he sat in his chair, but she couldn't see any sign of discomfort – not even a wince or a squint that might indicate a headache – and if anyone would have spotted it, it would have been her. As far as she could tell, he was fine.

"Did May have a good time?"

Peter nodded.

"I'm pretty sure she did, yeah. It was fun, even when you know what to expect, wasn't it?"

"It was _more_ fun."

Spies don't like surprises, after all. Even fuzzy, warm ones.

Stark joined them, carrying a plate of food on a tray, with a glass of water and a can of cola. He set it in front of Peter.

"You guys aren't eating?"

"We already ate," Tony told him, sitting down next to Romanoff so he could watch Peter. "I had them save some for you when we couldn't wake you up."

"Thanks."

"Eat."

Tony didn't ignore Peter while he ate his dinner, but he appeared to, talking more to Natasha about the schedule for the next day. He wanted Peter to have a chance to eat without interruption, and that meant not asking him a bunch of questions, or including him in the conversation.

Peter _did_ listen with interest, though, as they discussed the obstacle course that Steve had set up and he couldn't help but ask if Natasha and Clint were going to be part of it.

"Of course. The whole point is to give us a chance to work on working as a team," she told him. "You'll probably work better alone – at least from what I understand that's one of the strengths for your current situation – but the ability to blend as a teammate when it's needed is important. That's why we'll train together, even when many of us also have our own individual talents that don't really work in a team environment."

The way she explained it made sense, and also assured Peter that even if he didn't seem to know how he could help the Avengers, it didn't mean he wouldn't be able to someday. He would just have to learn where he fit in.

Stark gestured to his interrupted dinner and Peter started eating again, but continued to listen. The other two didn't mind, of course, or they wouldn't have been having the conversation they were having. While there were obviously a lot of things the boy _didn't_ need to know, of course, those that were hardly a secret would be shared openly. Peter had already proven he could keep things to himself when needed, after all. Training schedules and menus weren't classified.

As Peter was finishing the last of the potatoes, he felt that very familiar tingle that told him to brace himself. Sure enough, a moment later there was a large piece of fabric rocketing through the entrance, making a beeline to the boy and wrapping itself around him, emanating a mixture of happiness and concern as it caressed his cheek and assured itself that he was okay.

The fork clattered to the floor when his hands were suddenly pinned to his sides.

"You called Dr. Strange?" Peter asked, unnecessarily, trying to turn to look at Tony around the fabric that had such a tight grip on him.

"Of course I did. He just told your aunt you're not going to relapse and now you're fevered for no reason?"

Natasha smiled, always amused by the way the cloak treated Peter. She wished that she could have a video of it, but knew it wasn't really a YouTube candidate. Obviously.

A moment later Stephen walked into the lounge, still dressed in jeans, although he had changed from the sweatshirt into a button down dress shirt. He saw the group at the table and went over to them, a smile for Natasha but a hand on the forehead for Peter.

"What's going on?" he asked the boy, frowning at how hot he was.

"Nothing," Peter answered, trying to move his head, but held in place by the cloak. "I'm fine."

"You're right, Tony," Strange said. "He's _definitely_ fevered."

"I feel okay," Peter assured him, thinking that the communication watches were maybe just a little too convenient.

"No headache?"

"No."

"No loss of appetite," the doctor said, looking at the remains of the meal in front of the boy. "I know Tony didn't drop you on your head when he carried you to bed."

Natasha smiled at that.

"I feel okay," Peter repeated.

"You _look_ alright," Strange conceded. "No bad dreams?"

"Not that I remember."

"He fell out of his bed," Stark added. "We found him on the floor when we went to check on him."

"Were his blankets tangled?" Stephen asked.

Tony frowned. That wasn't something he would have noticed, but Natasha shook her head.

"No. One of the pillows was on the floor with him, but nothing looked out of place."

She, of course, hadn't missed anything.

"So it probably _wasn't_ a bad dream."

"What do we do?" Tony asked.

"We put a compress on him and see if the fever reacts to it." He looked at Peter. "Let's go to your room, okay?"

Natasha excused herself, saying that she had some things to take care of, but reminding them pointedly to call her if there was anything she needed to know – or could do. The two men flanked Peter as they walked from the lounge to his quarters, with Strange asking basic questions about how the boy felt and if he'd done anything out of the ordinary in the short time between returning to the facility and when Stark had found him.

Peter, of course, hadn't done anything but slept, so he had to say no. A stethoscope appeared in the doctor's hand when they walked into Peter's quarters and he had him sit on the coffee table while he checked his heart and lungs – just in case – but nothing was out of the ordinary.

"You seem fine," Strange conceded as the cloak reattached itself to Peter once the doctor had finished. "I'd say a quiet night in – maybe a movie – and we see if we can get the fever down with an ice pack."

"Good plan," Tony agreed, looking at the boy to see if he was going to argue.

Peter just shrugged. He was learning that there were definitely times to pick your arguments with Stark, and times that he was unmovable. To judge by his concerned expression, this was one of those times. He went and changed into sweats and a t-shirt, hampered by the cloak, while Strange produced a cold compress and a bowl of popcorn.

"I appreciate you coming," Tony told him while Peter was in his bedroom. "I wasn't sure if it was serious, but he's really warm, and-"

"No. You were right to call me," Strange interrupted. "He's not a just a little warm, and there isn't any reason for it as far as we can tell. Don't panic, though, okay? We'll see how the icepack does."

They settled on the sofa, one on either side of Peter and the cloak covering him, warmly tucking itself around him. Strange applied the icepack, which would have forced Peter to keep his head tilted back in an uncomfortable position for movie watching, but the cloak proved willing to hold it against his forehead and Stark took control of the remote, picking a comedy rather than anything too intense. As always, he wanted Peter sleeping whenever he could, and the lights in the room were off, the heat was up and there wouldn't be any suspense in the movie to keep him awake if at all possible. Just mindless hijinks.

Strange had a million other things that _he_ could have been doing – and most of them were far more interesting than the antics of Bill and Ted – but he didn't mind being where he was. He was baffled by the fever, even though he wouldn't admit it to Stark and maybe cause more concern, and he wanted to keep a close eye on the boy, just in case.

With the cloak wrapped around him, Peter didn't even have the distraction of eating popcorn. He was warm, both from the fever itself and from the cloak, which was doing that mental crooning that seemed designed to soothe and calm, even though there was a slight undertone of concern. Between that and the solid presence of the two men flanking him, he relaxed quickly and was soon nodding off. Before the telephone booth had even arrived at the Circle K, he was leaning against Tony, asleep.

"Let him sleep," Strange murmured softly, when Stark looked over at him. "We want to give that icepack time to kick in."

They finished the movie, and then sat in the near dark. Strange asked about the demonstration scheduled for the next day and Tony invited him to come watch, as well. Like Peter, it would be good for the doctor to see what the Avengers were capable of doing as a team.

Eventually Strange reached over and pulled the icepack off, waited a few minutes and checked Peter's temperature. The boy's face had lost that dangerous flush, and Tony was relieved to see that the doctor looked satisfied with what he was seeing.

"Put him to bed, Tony," Strange told him, carefully moving away from Peter to stand up. "Keep him out of the water in the morning, but feed him as much as you can. I'll be back to check on him."

The cloak unwrapped itself from the boy and went over to Strange, and both watched as Stark picked Peter up and carried him into his room, tucked him into his bed and then closed the door behind him.

"The icepack appears to have done the trick," Stephen told him. "Keep an eye on him, though. If you see anything that worries you, call me."

"Thanks."

"And get some sleep."

With that final admonishment, Strange and the cloak vanished.

Stark wondered if he should get Strange some permanent quarters at the facility as well. Of course, it wasn't as if the man was actually driving back and forth, but it was something to think about.

He sat down on the sofa and pulled out his phone. there was plenty he could be doing to occupy himself.


	112. Chapter 113

Stark woke Peter at 8 AM. He would have let him sleep longer but he wanted to get him fed and ready for the day before Strange arrived with the cloak, which would distract the boy and maybe keep him from eating. Besides, he wanted to make sure he was still feeling alright, and he couldn't ask him anything if he was asleep.

Folding the blanket that he'd used while sleeping on Peter's sofa, he laid it over the back of the couch and went into the bedroom, once more resting his hand on the boy's forehead to check for a fever. It wasn't the first time he'd checked it through the night, but this time Peter stirred at the touch and opened his eyes.

"Hey, Mr. Stark."

Tony smiled.

"Good morning. How are you feeling?"

"Okay."

"Your fever is definitely down."

"Yeah. I don't feel as hot."

"Think you can handle some breakfast?"

"Yeah."

He got himself ready for the day and the two walked to the commissary, with Stark carefully watching for any sign of illness, but not seeing any.

"Stephen wants to test out some kind of plan that Wong has to take care of your fevers. He says it will require a somewhat extended visit to the Sanctum. I suggested tonight, into tomorrow. What do you think?"

"Yeah. Are you coming?"

"I'll make sure you're settled. You'd be okay if I didn't stay?"

He knew Peter was comfortable with the two men, and he'd stayed the night at the sanctum before, but this one was more planned, and he wanted Peter to know he had a choice in the matter.

"Sure."

"Okay. We'll see what he has planned as far as a timeline, but don't make any plans for after lunch."

"Okay."

The commissary was filled, but there was always room at a table, and Peter saw Natasha, Steve and Clint sitting together at one and smiled when Steve gestured for him to come join them when he gathered some breakfast. It never stopped being amazing to him that Captain America wanted to hang out with him.

"Good morning," Natasha told him as he sat down beside her. "How do you feel?"

"Fine."

She looked at Tony, who was seating himself next to Clint. Stark nodded.

"He seems to be fine. Fever's down."

"So you'll be up for watching the obstacle courses," Steve said. "Good." He was done eating and had simply been keeping the others company, looking at photos Natasha had taken or gotten from the others of the group and the puppies.

"I'm looking forward to it," Peter told him, honestly.

"Come find me after you're done eating," Steve told him, standing up. "I'll make sure you get the best view."

Peter applied himself to his breakfast, even though he wasn't really all that hungry. He could feel Tony watching him and didn't want to worry him further. He knew that if he ate it would lessen one concern anyway.

Natasha and Clint both finished eating as well, and Natasha told him that they'd be on the field – to make it a little easier to find Steve once he was done eating. He and Tony lingered in the commissary after they finished, because Stark was waiting for Stephen and figured this would be one of the first places that he'd look if he didn't find them in Peter's quarters.

It was peaceful for them to sit together, relaxing with nothing that they had to be doing, but it wasn't too long before Peter felt the magical tingle and looked toward the door. Tony did as well, following the boy's gaze, and the cloak appeared first, zooming haphazardly through the others who were taking their time getting their day started, until it was wrapping itself around Peter's shoulders and neck, crooning happily into his mind while caressing his cheek.

"I swear you don't need a _puppy_ with that thing around," Tony told him, amused, watching as Strange headed for their table at a much more sedate pace.

Peter just smiled, and tried to avoid being throttled in the thing's enthusiasm.

"Good morning, gentlemen," Strange said, joining them.

"Breakfast, Stephen?" Stark offered.

"No, thanks." He looked at Peter. "How do you feel?"

"Fine."

"Headache?"

"No."

"Fever? Hot?"

"He doesn't seem to be," Tony said, reaching out to touch Peter's forehead again, even though he'd checked it earlier.

Strange did the same, but nodded.

"No. You feel alright. Good."

"We were getting ready to go watch the obstacle course," Stark told him. "Still interested?"

"Yes."

OOOOOOOO

It was quite a show. Tony had seen them in their actual element rather than the training drills, but even he had to be impressed by what the folks around him were capable of doing. He looked over at Peter, amused by the way the boy was leaning forward, his entire body tense as he watched the drills being run on the field below them.

Steve had put them up on a viewing area. It was also where there were two cameramen, recording the action going on in the field and afforded Peter, Strange and tony with an amazing view and a chance to see all the action all at once.

The obstacle course had been interesting, true, and watching as Steve effortlessly led his team through every kind of tangle, mire and even a mudslide had been amazing, but then the _really_ interesting stuff began. The single group had suddenly become two different teams, one led by Steve and the other by Clint. They were playing a sort of capture the flag, only with actual explosions, and a lot of hand to hand combat.

"She's amazing," Peter murmured, softly, watching as Natasha made her way through a group of defenders, her body hardly slowing as she took down person after person, or dodged a blow one moment, or even a knife or other blade the next. The cloak of levitation was wrapped around Peter, protectively, but it, too, seemed to be studying the activities below them.

"Yeah, she is."

Strange was just as intent on the action as Peter was. Steve had the careless seeming flair for leadership, and he was taking out the defenders as easily as Natasha was, but he _was Captain America_ , and Peter expected that. Natasha was the one who'd let him cry on her shoulder, and he never would have expected her to be so lethal. Even though Stark had hinted at it several times.

"Why aren't you down there?" Peter asked Stark, looking over at him for just a moment.

"This is a hand to hand demonstration," Tony explained. "My particular skills are a bit broader, as you know. The weaponry the Ironman suit carries is for larger conflicts, for the most part."

"It's incredible," Stephen said, shaking his head.

With his skills, he'd have just knocked everyone down, or used a slingring portal to do his own devastation, and his hand to hand skills were pretty good, but to see an entire group with those skills, and see how they acted as a team, well, that was an eye-opener. Even for him.

"I'm glad you approve."

There was no irony in Stark's tone, and he turned back to the field before Strange could see his expression, but he was obviously sincere.

Clint fired an arrow that exploded, knocking down the flagpole that held his opponent team's flag, but before someone from his team could grab it, Steve had climbed the other team's pole, with Natasha and a couple of others guarding his back and had claimed the opposing flag. And the victory.

All hand to hand on the field stopped immediately, and there were cheers from the winning team and good natured grumbling from the losers.

"What happens now?" Peter asked Stark.

"They get cleaned up and then debrief. They'll go over the video that was shot and see what they can learn from all of it, and the smart ones will apply it to the _next_ drill."

"Which are the smart ones?" Strange asked, looking down at the dispersing 'armies'.

"In this group?" Tony asked. "They _all_ are."

"Wow…"

Stark smiled, pleased that Peter had found it so interesting and wondering if he'd been thinking of ways that he might have helped out during the capture the flag, if nothing else. Obviously there was plenty he could do, especially with his agility and his webbing, which could disarm people or stop them however temporarily.

He put one hand on the boy's shoulder and the other on Strange's.

"Let's go to the lounge," He suggested. "That's where the others will come looking for us when they're done."


	113. Chapter 114

Sure enough, it was a couple of hours later when Natasha and Clint entered the lounge. They saw the others, and walked over, both of them dressed in Avenger flight suits.

Peter was playing solitaire at the table while Stark and Strange were playing Cribbage. A game the boy hadn't shown any interest in learning. He was content to sit and watch, and occasionally pick up one of his cards when the cloak tried to point out an open move and would knock something off the table in its enthusiasm.

"Who's winning?" Natasha asked as they reached the table. She leaned over and hugged Peter, who smiled up at her.

"You'd have to ask them," he admitted. "I don't understand the game."

"It's not that hard, Peter," Strange told him, tossing his cards on the table to greet Natasha and Clint.

"You guys were amazing."

Clint preened, and Natasha smiled. Both at the compliment and at her teammate's reaction to it. She put her hand on the doctor's shoulder for just a moment by way of greeting, and then sat down between him and Peter.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it," she said, reaching for the water glass that Strange had been making sure Peter emptied repeatedly. With the fever gone, but the expectation of going to the sanctuary, he didn't want the boy dehydrated, and a little preemptive planning never hurt anyone. "Were you watching, Peter?"

"Yeah."

"Good. That's the sort of hand to hand that I'm going to teach you. Not the kind where you and your opponent go toe to toe, but the hit and run version. You do only what you need to disable him – or _her_ – enough to get away."

"Not that Nat can't do _both_ ," Clint told them. "But she's right about that way being better suited to you."

Peter nodded, once more having visions of Bruce Lee and Jackie Chan movies.

"Where's Steve?" Strange asked.

Clint grinned.

"He's still watching videos."

"He's a perfectionist," Natasha agreed. "He'll study those videos until he's sure he can't learn anything else from them. Then he'll teach the rest of us whatever we didn't take away on our own."

She was obviously impressed by that.

"Lunch?" Tony asked. They'd been waiting for the others before having their own.

"Sure."

Stark went to order their lunch and the four started a new game of Cribbage. Peter was invited, but he wasn't interested and figured they'd have more fun if he didn't play so they didn't have the distraction of him losing so spectacularly. Which he was sure he would.

Rather than play solitaire he started building houses out of the cards in the deck he'd been using. While normally he and Ned could create some very impressive displays of playing card engineering and architecture, it didn't work nearly as well with the cloak trying to assist him in his designs. Their lunch arrived while he was under the table picking up the latest of his apartment building failures.

"What are you guys doing today?" Natasha asked as they started eating.

"Peter's going to the sanctum," Stark answered. "Stephen wants to try something out with those senses of his."

"You're not going?" Clint asked, clearly surprised.

Tony shook his head.

"I don't think so. Stephen and Wong can keep him out of trouble."

"What does Pepper need you to do?" Natasha asked with a smile, figuring – correctly – that that was the only thing that would keep Stark from hovering.

"There's a board meeting she needs me to attend. The two of us outvote anyone, and she doesn't want to have to reconvene because I'm not there."

"What are you doing?" Peter asked, deciding that the flight suits looked comfortable, but the regular uniforms were probably more the norm. Meaning that they might be going somewhere.

"We are heading to Bucharest," Clint answered. " _Again_."

Natasha nodded, and smiled at the way Peter perked up at that.

"Want more of those candies?" she asked the boy.

"If it's not a hassle."

"Not at all. They're a lot easier to carry than a Romanian girl and her angry father."

Barton grinned at that, while Peter blushed. Stark and Strange figured it was an inside joke, but it wasn't that hard to figure out what he meant. Especially with Peter's blush.

"If that guy gives you any more trouble, tell him the deal is off and he's going to have to find his own sources," Tony told them.

"Nat can handle him," Clint said.

They stopped talking to focus on their meal, but the two wanted to get going as soon as possible, so they didn't linger. Instead, Natasha brushed a kiss across Peter's forehead when she stood up – a _much_ easier way to check for fever, although not something Strange or Tony could probably use nearly as easily as she could – and smiled.

"I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

"Yeah."

"No hand to hand stuff until he's ready for it," Strange told her.

She nodded.

"You're welcome to sit in on the lesson, too, if you'd like."

He didn't _need_ the lesson, of course, but he smiled at the invite.

"Have a safe flight."

The two left and Tony's phone chimed only a few moments later. He sighed, and checked the message, and then looked at Strange and Peter.

"Are you guys good?"

"Yes."

"Peter?"

"Yeah."

"No _nutmeg_ ," Stark reminded them both. "And don't keep him up all night."

"I'll take good care of him, dad," Stephen told him, rolling his eyes while Peter grinned. "We'll make sure he eats all his vegetables and Wong can fluff his pillow."

"I'm just saying…"

"We'll be fine, Tony. Really."

The two watched as he left, and Strange looked over at Peter.

"Ready?"

"Yeah."

OOOOOOOOOO

Peter had to admit that it never got old to be able to move somewhere instantaneously. Maybe it wasn't something he was interested in learning how to do – swinging your way through the tops of the city building was pretty amazing, too – but it was awesome.

With the cloak still wrapped around his upper body, he and Strange appeared on the top of the first flight of stairs an instant after leaving the lounge. This time the boy didn't stumble at all, proof that he was feeling better and also getting used to that mode of transportation.

"Wong won't be ready to try his spell until this evening," Stephen told him. "Want me to show you around some more, or do you want to take a break?"

There was no question about what Peter would choose, of course.

"What's left to see?" he asked, assuming that he'd already been everywhere there was. The sanctum was bigger on the inside than it seemed to be looking at it from the out, but he'd been top to bottom as far as he knew.

"You've barely seen any of it," Stephen told him, amused. "We'll save the first floor for later tonight, or tomorrow, but the library isn't the only interesting thing on the third."

They went up the next flight of stairs, and this time the cloak decided to hover between the two as Strange pointed out a few more easily explained objects that were in displays while they walked. He and Peter avoided the library, but went the other direction, where the displays became more and more unusual, with the stories more unbelievable than the next, although Stephen told him as much as he figured Peter could understand – or believe.

The place was immense, Peter was beginning to realize, and like he'd thought before, it was so much like a museum that it was no surprise he liked it so much. He'd always loved museums. They wandered for hours, losing track of time in the stories of each item he pointed out to Strange, who was enjoying having such an appreciative audience.

A strong tingle drew Peter's attention when they walked by what appeared to be just another bookcase – only it had an aquarium on it with three unusual looking fish that watched them pass.

"What's this?" Peter asked, stopping.

"Fish."

" _Magic_ fish?"

Strange hesitated.

"What do you feel?'

Peter thought about it, trying to decide how to articulate the vibration running through him just then.

"It's like the cloak, only a little different. More neutral. But definitely magical. Is it the _fish_?"

He looked at the tank more closely, but the tingle wasn't coming from the fish, he decided. It was coming from behind them.

"It's a protective barrier," Strange replied.

"What does it protect?'

"The Eye of Agamotto."

Peter frowned, looking a little sick.

"Whose eye?"

The doctor smiled.

"It's not a real eye. It's a relic. Come on, I'll show you."

He waved a hand and there was a shimmer in the fish tank area. It didn't look any different, really, but he took a step forward, and Peter followed. And found himself in a large, almost empty room with a small pedestal in the exact center, holding a small necklace of some sort. The thing was radiating power.

"Wow…"

"Don't touch it," Strange warned him as they walked over.

He nodded, putting his hands behind his back to avoid doing just that, automatically. There was nothing that would make him want to touch something as much as being told not to. And he knew it.

"What can it do?" he asked, not taking his eye off the thing.

"It houses the Time Stone," Stephen answered. "It allows me to wield its power."

"The Time Stone?"

"One of the stones of power," Strange clarified, which he realized didn't really clarify anything.

He stepped forward and picked up the necklace, which hummed oddly to Peter's senses at the touch, as if waiting expectantly. There was a sense of eagerness, but it was laced with a chaotic theme that made Peter raise his hand, uncertainly, because something was going to happen and his spider senses were suddenly screaming at him.

At Strange's touch, the Eye of Agamotto opened, revealing a brilliant green light.

At the exact moment of the touch, the muted humming became a raging torrent that threw Peter backwards as he was suddenly assaulted with a power that was overloading his mind with a pain so unbearable that he couldn't even cry out. He thought maybe he felt the cloak suddenly wrap itself around his head, muting the blast, and might have heard Strange's voice yell his name, but he was out long before he hit the floor. If he even _did_.


	114. Chapter 115

Peter came to very slowly, his other senses telling him what was going on around him long before he was able to force his eyes open.

He was hot. So hot that it was unbearable. He was on his back, propped up from behind, but apparently in a bed, to judge from the soft comforter he could feel underneath him. Someone was holding him, carefully, a cool wet cloth of some kind was being pressed against his face, neck and chest which seemed to ease the heat for a moment until it would come back, seemingly twice as bad. He could feel the cloak of levitation, too. Not _physically_ , because he was way too hot for it to be comfortable to have it anywhere near him just then, but the thing was doing its magical humming somewhere close at hand. Concern and comfort gently barraging his senses in that magical way that it had of communicating with him – although he wasn't completely sure it was _him_ the thing was trying to comfort.

"He's waking up," a voice said, from somewhere to his right. Peter recognized it as Wong's.

The wet cloth stilled against his ribcage.

"Peter?"

That voice was Doctor Strange. Coming from behind him, it told the boy who was holding him. He opened his eyes, carefully, but his head didn't hurt. He just felt hot. He saw Wong watching him, concerned, and felt Strange behind him shift just enough so Peter could see him leaning over his shoulder. He was pale, and didn't look sinister like usual. Instead he looked distraught, and as if to confirm that conjecture, the cloak of levitation was wrapped around the doctor, caressing him the same way it did whenever it thought Peter needed comfort.

He'd been right about the bed, too, but it wasn't his room they were in, it was Strange's.

"What happened?" he asked, unwilling to move, even though the position was an awkward one for any kind of conversation. He didn't _hurt_ , exactly, but he wasn't feeling very good, either.

"I almost killed you," Strange said, wiping the wet cloth against Peter's forehead and face.

"What?"

"What do you remember?" Wong asked, frowning at Strange.

He hesitated.

"Looking at the fish…"

"And then?" Strange asked.

Peter was silent, trying to think, but he had to shake his head – even though that actually _did_ hurt a little. "Nothing."

"How do you feel?"

"Hot."

"Your fever is back," Strange told him, unnecessarily.

"Yeah. Why?"

"The power of the Time Stone nearly killed you," Wong said.

"The what?"

"I should have known it would happen," Stephen told him. "With your sensitivity to magic, and the power the stone possesses, there's no way you would have been able to handle it. I wasn't thinking."

"Easy to say now," Wong said. "But hindsight is and always _has been_ 20/20."

"I don't understand," Peter admitted. "What happened?"

"I showed you an artifact," Strange explained. "But it overwhelmed you and you passed out before I could move you away from it."

"How could looking at something hurt me?"

"I doubt you even _saw_ it," the doctor told him, running the cloth along his neck. "I closed the Eye when I realized what was happening, and the cloak had you wrapped up, I assume to try to mute the assault. Then I moved you here…"

"Drink this, Peter," Wong told him, holding a glass in his hand and putting a straw to the boy's lip. "We don't want you dehydrated."

Peter started to sit up but Strange held him firmly.

"Don't move, yet. Just use the straw, okay? I want to get the fever under control, first."

Peter did what he was told, surprised by the taste of whatever it was that was in the glass. It was incredibly refreshing and a little fruity. A magic potion, maybe? He finished it all and then closed his eyes, leaning back into the doctor, feeling too miserable to think about anything else just then.

"Can you sleep?" Strange asked him.

"No."

He _did_ , though. Almost immediately.

Wong looked over at Strange.

"He's going to be fine. Don't look so guilty."

"I wasn't thinking," Stephen repeated, still brushing the cloth along the boy's fevered skin. "That was careless."

"He doesn't even remember."

"But I do."

The cloak had given him the first indication that something was wrong when it had engulfed the boy. Not in its usual joyful manner, but so thoroughly that something had to be wrong. Then Peter had fallen backward without a sound, and the realization of what had happened had caught up with Strange. He'd snapped the Eye shut and had grabbed the boy, cloak and all, transferring them. His own bedroom was shielded, so it had been his first and obvious choice, and a quick check of vitals had shown he was alive but dangerously fevered.

Wong had come running by the time Strange finished his initial assessment and he was the one who had produced the wet cloth to try to cool the boy off as quickly and gradually as possible. Dumping him into an ice bath would cool his fever, but maybe shock his system enough to kill him.

"Do you want me to take over?" Wong offered.

"No. I've got him. Do I call Stark now?"

"And tell him what?"

"That I almost killed Peter."

"You didn't almost kill him," Wong told him, at the same time the cloak of levitation ran a soothing corner along the doctor's cheek, obviously trying to comfort the only way it knew how. "It would have happened eventually. You saved him with your quick thinking."

"So do I call Tony?"

"No. We get Peter on his feet, first."

"But what if-"

"There's no what if," Wong interrupted, impatiently. He understood why Strange felt that he was at fault, but he disagreed that he was, and wasn't going to let the man wallow in guilt. "We get the fever down and he will feel better. It's that simple."

"It's not, though."

"Is there an infinity stone at the Avenger facility?" Wong asked, changing the subject.

"I doubt it. Why?'

"It would explain the sudden fever you told me about. It certainly explains _this_ one."

"The other one wasn't so serious," Strange pointed out, drawn from his introspection at the puzzle. "And I'm sure we would have seen it – or Peter would have felt it before yesterday."

"Maybe it's shielded, too."

"I'll ask Tony when I speak to him."

"When will that be?"

Strange sighed, looking down at Peter.

"When I have better news for him than I do right now."

Wong nodded.

"Call me if you need me."

He filled the glass with the same mixture that he'd given Peter, setting it next to the bed in case the boy woke again, and then he left.

Strange looked down at the boy he was holding, running a hand along his cheek. Maybe it wasn't quite as hot as it had been? He shifted just a little, getting more comfortable but not quite ready to release his hold on Peter. He needed the grounding that the contact provided, because despite what Wong said, he knew it was his fault. Besides, this was the best way to know when the fever broke.

The cloak settled as well, still draped over him, still crooning, even though Strange couldn't feel it at all, and Peter was in no condition to just then.


	115. Chapter 116

Strange was still holding Peter when he woke next, but he wasn't using the wet towel on him. As expected, the fever had reacted well to the treatment, and while he was still warm, he wasn't dangerously so. Now he was just holding him because he didn't want to wake him up moving out from behind him. When he felt the boy stirring, though, he did move, careful not to jar him, and replaced the area he had been with a stack of pillows to prop him up. Now he could sit on the edge of the bed beside him, and he did, watching as the boy opened his eyes and looked around.

"Hello."

"Hey."

The doctor ran his hand along Peter's forehead and then his cheek, as if the change of position might have made the fever increase.

"How do you feel?"

"Better."

"You _look_ better."

The cloak was still with Strange, although it was hovering close enough that Peter could tell it wanted it jump all over him and wrap itself around him. He was glad it wasn't, though, because he did still feel warm. Just not hot, like before. Peter reached out and touched the corner of the fabric closest to him, and the thing crooned with magical happiness, although it still refrained from cuddling with him.

"Thanks, Doctor Strange," Peter said, looking back at the man sitting beside him.

The doctor looked surprised.

"For what?"

"Taking care of me."

"I caused it, Peter."

The boy shook his head.

"A spider caused it."

"What?"

Now Strange was well and truly confused.

"You didn't have anything to do with me being able to feel magic."

"I was careless, though. I risked you."

"I doubt that."

He didn't remember anything about what happened, but he knew Strange liked him.

"I should have thought it through a little more."

Peter shrugged, turning on his side a little so he wasn't staring at the ceiling and forced to turn his head to talk.

"I feel okay."

"Good."

He handed the boy the glass Wong had left, and Peter drank it down without being told.

"Did I miss dinner?"

"Does that mean you're hungry?" Strange asked with a slight smile.

"Yeah."

"Requests?"

"Anything but soup or stew."

Really nothing warm, but he couldn't think of anything that was strictly cold – other than ice cream.

A tray appeared on the bed, with sandwiches and chips. Enough for two. Peter nodded approvingly and sat up a little more. And then heard his watch communicator chime at him. The boy tapped the appropriate button.

"Hey, Mr. Stark."

 _"Peter. How's it going?"_

"Great. We're having dinner."

 _"Everything okay?"_

"Yeah. I saw more of the sanctum and took a nap. Doctor Strange has fish."

 _"Eating fish? Or aquarium fish?"_

Peter smiled, even though Stark couldn't see it.

"Not the eating kind."

 _"Have they started their experiment yet?"_

"No, not yet."

 _"Let me know how it goes, okay?"_

"Yeah."

 _"Need anything?"_

"I'm good."

 _"I'll come get you tomorrow. Tell Stephen early afternoon, unless he needs you longer."_

"Okay."

 _"Good night."_

"Good night."

The watch went silent as Stark signed off, and Strange frowned as Peter picked up a sandwich.

"That's a fine line you just walked, Peter."

"What do you mean?"

"You didn't tell him everything."

"I told him the truth. I looked around, I slept and I am eating dinner."

"He should know what happened."

"And freak him out? No way."

"He doesn't need to be protected, young man."

"This has nothing to do with protecting _him_ ," Peter told him, sincerely. "It's about making sure that I get to come back, and you know as well as I do that if Mr. Stark finds out what happened – at least that it was serious – I won't be allowed back here."

"That's not necessarily true."

"You really think so?" Peter challenged.

Strange wanted to say no, but he knew better.

"It's a risk," he conceded.

" _My_ risk," Peter pointed out. "And not one I'm willing to take."

Strange hesitated, but finally nodded. Like with keeping his secret from his aunt, it was clear Peter had thought things through – although Strange wondered how he'd done so in the short time since he'd woken up.

"You're right. I am going to mention it, though, because Wong thinks that your fever the other day may have been due to exposure to a stone of power as well - so I need to ask if that's a possibility."

"But you won't say I passed out? Or how bad the fever was?"

"No. Unless you take a turn for the worse."

"I'm fine. Just warm."

"No headache?"

"No."

"Eat your dinner. When we're done we'll see how you're feeling."

"Okay."

"And try not to get potato chip crumbs in my sheets."

Peter smiled at that, and applied himself to his dinner.

OOOOOOOOO

"How's he doing?"

Tony shrugged, turning to Pepper after signing off from his call with Peter.

"He says he's fine."

She smiled, because he didn't look like he really believed that, but he knew he couldn't go check on Peter after already checking in with him.

"I'm sure he's having a good time."

"Probably."

"Stephen's not going to let him get into trouble."

"There are a lot of things to get into there."

"He's smart."

"I know." He put his arms around her, and smiled, deciding to make the best of it. "So… we've got the kids out of the house for the night… Whatever shall we do with ourselves?"

Pepper smiled, too.

OOOOOOOOOO

Strange decided not to let Peter out of bed after dinner. He was still fevered – even though it wasn't as bad as it had been – and the doctor didn't want to chance it. He knew he wasn't being any better than Tony when it came to being over protective, but he couldn't help himself. He'd taken a scare of his own, and he hadn't gotten over it just yet. Peter grumbled, but he didn't openly rebel, which told Strange that he probably didn't really feel like getting up at any rate.

Strange applied a couple of self-adhesive cooling packs, one to his forehead and a couple along his ribs, deciding that they would work on the fever without the wet cloth making a mess. Wong joined them in Strange's room with a small table designed to sit on Peter's lap and a small book that he had been researching for a couple of days.

"This spell is simple, Peter," Wong told him. "But it can be powerful."

"Like the stone?"

"No. Nothing like that."

"You feel me working magic, though, right?" Strange asked.

"It's a tingle."

"Does it vary with whatever I'm doing?"

"I don't know."

He really hadn't seen much more than transferring people and items. He didn't know the difference for other spells.

Wong opened a sling ring, and then Strange brought a Scrabble game into the room with a thought.

"Was there a difference?"

"Yes. The wormhole made a stronger vibration."

Strange scowled. Obviously the boy had compared notes with Ned sometime during their video game night.

"It's not a wormhole," he told Peter.

"The spell I'm going to create is designed to create a shield around your mind. Similar to the one we used to keep Loki out of your head," Wong told him. "The first concern is that you will feel it more intimately because it's _inside_ you, so if you feel any discomfort, tell me immediately."

"I won't be able to feel magic?" Peter asked. "What will it do to my spider senses?"

"We don't know," Strange admitted. "That's why we're testing it here, where we can control all the variables."

"We're not trying to block the _magic_ ," Wong told him. "Just the vibration that it causes."

"Okay."

OOOOOOOO

The first attempt failed immediately. It was uncomfortable enough that it was hurting Peter, and when he said so, the spell was dismissed instantly. Wong tried a different variation of the same spell, but it had the same effect, and it, too, was banished.

The next try completely shielded the magic, and dulled Peter's senses. Not just the way he felt the cloak and Strange's magic, but it also left his fingers tingling. It was cancelled.

They tried several, but none of them was even close to the result that Wong was looking for. Finally, he and Strange called a stop for the evening. It was obvious that being experimented on was taking its toll on Peter, even though he wasn't complaining, and they decided to play Scrabble for a while to give him a break and let him do something that would allow him to do nothing more than play a game with no consequences.

Peter was good at Scrabble because he was a reader and had a good vocabulary. Strange was highly educated, of course, and also had a large vocabulary at his command. Wong had lived long enough to see many more things than Strange or Peter, and he had a vocabulary that wasn't to be denied, either.

Because of that, the entire game ended up just depending on the luck of the letters drawn from the bag, and Strange won the first one by a fair margin. They didn't finish the second game because Peter literally fell asleep in the middle of Wong's turn.

"Do we put him in his bed?" Wong asked, gathering up the pieces.

Strange shook his head and stood up.

"No sense risking waking him. I'll take his bed and he can keep mine."

Strange covered the boy with a blanket, just to make sure he didn't get chilled if the fever broke completely during the night, and the cloak curled up next to the boy, touching him but not covering him, crooning happily to have him all to itself.

They left the door open just a little in case the cloak decided to wander during the night, turned off the lights and left.


	116. Chapter 117

When Peter woke next the room was dark and quiet. He stretched under the blanket that he'd been covered with and looked around, but there was no one with him. Just the cloak, which crooned cheerfully into his mind when it realized he was awake and ran one corner of its fabric against his forehead, as if checking for a fever like everyone else did when they saw him.

Peter pulled his head away from it, amused.

"Not _you_ , too," he told it.

The thing didn't seem to mind. It just watched as Peter sat up, rubbing his face a little and pulling the blanket up around him. He wasn't cold, really, but definitely not as warm as he had been, and he didn't have a shirt and had no idea where his was. The cloak fixed that immediately by wrapping itself around his shoulders and down his back, covering all exposed areas and emanating warmth and comfort, although now that he thought about it, the warmth could have been a byproduct of the extra vibrations the thing was giving off as it hummed in his head. Either way, he wasn't chilled.

"Thanks."

It touched his cheek in silent reply.

Restless after having been in bed almost all day and really hungry, he pushed the blanket back and got up. He looked for his shoes but didn't see them, either. If it had been his room at the Avenger's facility he would have just hit the fridge for a snack, but even if he _had_ a fridge in his room here - which he didn't – he wasn't in _his_ room, and Dr. Strange didn't need a fridge in his room. Not when he could summon his midnight snacks with a thought. If his stomach hadn't growled so hard that it almost hurt, he might have just gone back to bed, but that wasn't really an option. He'd never get back to sleep as hungry as he was.

Magic might be worth learning just for that, he decided as he walked quietly to the staircase and headed down to the kitchen, the cloak humming cheerfully in his head.

The fridge in the kitchen didn't yield any more to eat when he opened it this time than when he and Stark had checked it out the last time they'd been in the Sanctum. The block of cheese was gone, and had been replaced a bag of broccoli, although the jar of mayo was still there and had been joined by butter and strawberry jelly. Peter closed the fridge and looked at the cupboard that held the boxed meals; mac and cheese, Rice-a-Roni and spaghetti, but while he was sure he could cook himself something without the fuss that Stark had made, he really didn't feel like _cooking_ anything.

"Is there any _bread_?" he asked the cloak, hopefully, although he really didn't expect there to be.

To his surprise the thing tugged him toward the stove and pointed a corner at a box on the counter next to it. Peter opened it and found a loaf of bread that looked as if it might have been baked the previous day. It was fresh, anyway, when he pulled it out of the box and unwrapped it. He _had_ been thinking toast, but his first attempt at cutting a slice of the bread came away with a slice that was way too big for the toaster slot and the second was so thin that it would have crumbled long before it was toasted. Instead, he cut a couple more big slices, wrapped the bread up and put it back in the box. Then he returned to the fridge and put jelly on his bread. It wasn't the greatest of snacks, but it would do in a pinch, and he ate it as he headed back to bed.

OOOOOOOO

Wong was in the kitchen when Strange walked in the next morning, dressed and ready to start his day. He'd checked on Peter on his way and had found him soundly sleeping with the cloak and a blanket covering him. A gentle hand to his forehead told him that the fever had, indeed, broken sometime during the night.

"We might need to rethink keeping food in the refrigerator when we have guests," Wong told him by way of a greeting.

Strange nodded.

"You saw the trail of breadcrumbs?"

"Yes."

Wong had already wiped the counter of the crumbs and had cleaned the jelly covered knife that had been left in the sink.

"There are more in my bed."

"Sandwich stuff, anyway…" Wong suggested.

"We're _new_ at this," the doctor said, leaning against the island. "We'll learn."

Wong nodded his agreement and handed Strange a cup of coffee. He didn't bother to ask how the boy was, assuming correctly that if he'd felt well enough to raid the kitchen in the middle of the night that he was probably doing better. Instead, he wanted to get an idea of how Strange himself was feeling.

"Did you speak to Stark?"

Strange shook his head.

" _Peter_ did, though. He told him he was having a good time and that he'd taken a nap and was eating dinner."

"But not what happened?"

"No. And he convinced me not to tell him, either. Or at least not to tell him _all_ of it."

"Stark would hesitate to allow him to return…"

"Yes. Which Peter pointed out to me, and then told me that it was _his_ decision to make and not _mine_. Which I suppose is true."

"You're still going to ask him about the infinity stones, though?"

Strange nodded.

"I told Peter I would, too. I can't imagine why the Avengers would have one – or even if they'd know what it was if they _did_ – but your hypothesis is a sound one, and we don't want Peter exposed to another direct contact with one of the stones if it can be avoided."

"I don't think we're going to be able to block the fevers," Wong admitted.

"I know. The sensitivity is just too much a part of him to isolate it, and the fevers are a natural result."

"I can keep looking."

Strange shook his head.

"We'll just do whatever we need to when he's here. Keep him hydrated and mitigate any damage they might cause."

"He's sleeping?"

"Yes."

"What do you want for breakfast?"


	117. Chapter 118

Strange and Wong were just finishing up their breakfasts when Peter made an appearance. He was wearing jeans, socks and the Cloak of Levitation, but nothing else, and was rubbing his face sleepily.

"Good morning," Strange said, gesturing to the stool next to him. "Can I get you anything?"

"Some clothes?"

The doctor smiled. He had meant breakfast, but there were other considerations that needed to be dealt with, too, he supposed.

"I think we can manage that."

A stack of clothes appeared in front of the boy, who gathered them up.

"Breakfast?" Wong asked.

"A shower," Peter replied. The fever had left him feeling itchy, even though he wasn't sure if it was only in his mind or not. "Thanks."

"Come down for breakfast when you're done," Strange told him as he headed for the door.

"Okay."

"He looks like he's feeling alright," Wong noted.

"Yes."

He'd check him out, of course, before Tony took him back to the Avenger's compound, but there hadn't appeared to be any unsteadiness when he'd walked in or when he'd walked out, and he hadn't been giving any indication that his head was bothering him.

"What are you going to do this morning?"

"I thought I'd show him around a bit more, maybe explain the Time Stone to him so he understands why he was so powerfully affected by his contact with it."

"Could you imagine if he'd actually _touched_ the thing?" Wong said, shaking his head.

Of course, most people couldn't handle direct contact with an infinity stone. Even Strange needed the Eye of Agamotto to be able to focus the power of the Time stone.

"I don't even want to think about it."

OOOOOOOOOO

When Peter returned about forty minutes later, he was freshly showered and wearing the new clothing, and his shoes, which he'd found in his own room when he'd gone there after his shower. The cloak was still with him, but it wasn't hanging on him, it was hovering beside him with a corner draped over shoulder, avoiding his still damp hair.

"How do you feel?" Strange asked, looking up from the book he'd been reading while waiting. He'd correctly assumed Peter would come to the kitchen once he was finished.

Wong had left to go search the library. Strange had a feeling he was still trying to find a solution to the fevers. No one liked to come away with a fail when searching as long as he had been, after all.

"I'm okay," Peter told him, honestly.

"Tired?"

"Not really."

"Ready for some breakfast?"

"Please."

Rather than just summon him some breakfast, Strange asked what he wanted and cooked it, proving he was far more skilled in the kitchen than Stark – at least when it came to making pancakes, eggs and bacon.

While he cooked, he and Peter discussed the failed attempts to figure out the fevers, and Wong's pronouncement that there probably wasn't a work around. Peter wasn't upset; he and Strange had already discussed ways to work around the effects of the fevers, and he knew it wouldn't keep him from returning to the Sanctum, now.

The doctor set a full plate of breakfast in front of him and encouraged him to eat.

"If you're interested, we'll do a little more exploring when you're finished eating," he told the boy. "Unless you would rather nap, or do something else."

Peter was willing to look around, of course, and Strange was pleased that the disastrous results of the evening before wasn't going to curtail Peter's interest in finding out more about the place. Of course, it probably helped that the boy had no memory of the actual event itself, so he didn't remember how much pain he'd been in.

He finished eating, drank another glass of the hydrating concoction that Wong had developed for him to counter anything the fever might do and then the two went exploring the first floor and all the displays that were on that level. Wong knew more about the history of the place, and the items that were in it, but Strange was a good guide, and adept at explaining anything that Peter pointed out.

They lost track of time and Wong came looking for them several hours later.

"Do we eat now, or wait for Tony?"

Strange looked at his watch. His very impressive Avenger watch that he was beginning to really like having, and then looked at Peter.

"Are you hungry?"

"I don't mind waiting."

Wong nodded, and left them alone again, but they ended the exploration, going instead to the downstairs library. Strange produced a chessboard and they started playing, deciding it would be a good way to pass the time while waiting for Tony.

OOOOOOOOO

It was less than an hour later when Wong found Stark at the door, sharply dressed in a suit and holding a small satchel in his hand. The two walked into the library and Stark was surprised to find them playing chess.

"You haven't learned your lesson?" he asked Strange, walking over and automatically checking on Peter, both with a look and with a hand to his forehead. The cloak of levitation was draped over the boy's shoulder, but it was obviously used to Stark by now, because it didn't even twitch.

"Of _course_ I have," Strange said, not bothering to look up. "We're not betting."

Peter smiled.

"Who's winning?"

"Peter is."

Stark sat down, and opened the bag he'd been carrying.

"I have something for you," he told Strange. "Pepper sent them."

"Oh?"

Game forgotten for a moment, the doctor and Peter both looked over curiously. Stark pulled out a framed 8x10 and handed it to Strange, who saw that she'd sent him a photo of Peter sleeping with the puppies. He smiled, and handed it to the boy, who hadn't seen it before.

"She thought you'd like it," Tony said. "And _this_ one."

He handed another framed photo over, this one the picture he himself had snapped of Natasha and Peter both using the doctor for a pillow in the limo. Strange studied it for a long moment before handing it to Peter as well.

"Can I get a copy of this one?" Peter asked. He didn't have any photos of him and Natasha and it was a bonus that Strange was in it as well.

"There's one in your room already."

Several more photos were produced, one with just Strange and a collie puppy in his arms, but a few with him and Natasha cuddling puppies and even one with him and Stark both holding puppies.

"That was nice of her," the doctor said. "Make sure you tell her I appreciate it."

"Will do."

"We waited to eat," Strange told him. "Are you hungry?"

"Sure."

Wong joined them in the kitchen and even though the two normally didn't eat too heavily in the afternoon Strange wanted a big meal in Peter before he left, so they opted for pasta, sauce and bread. While it was cooking, Strange brought up the subject of the infinity stones with Stark.

"Does your facility hold any alien artifacts?" he asked, curiously, stirring the sauce, but watching Stark.

Tony didn't even hesitate.

"No. Some serious tech, but nothing that wasn't developed here on Earth. Why do you ask?"

"Because we _do_ have many such items here. One is an infinity stone, and when I showed it to Peter, he had a reaction that reminded me of the fever that happened the other night at the compound. I was just curious if there was any way they were connected."

Stark looked at Peter, instantly concerned.

"Are you okay?"

The boy gestured to himself, obviously upright and looking healthy, although he was a little warm.

"I'm fine."

"He _is_ ," Stephen confirmed. "Like I said, I just wanted to ask."

"Okay."

He reached out and brushed his hand against Peter's forehead one more time, but had to admit the boy looked alright. Then he frowned, because he was pretty sure he'd heard the term infinity stone before, somewhere in passing. It didn't come to him immediately, though, and he knew if he tried to hard it might elude him completely. He had to admit he was distracted by the company he was keeping, and the smell of home cooking that permeated the kitchen.

"How did your experiment go?" he asked. "He still feels warm."

"So far it's a wash," Wong admitted. "Nothing we've tried has had the desired result. I'll keep studying the issue in case something comes to hand."

They changed the topic to other things once their lunch was ready, and the conversation was sporadic as they ate. All three adults were watching Peter, making sure there was nothing wrong with his appetite, and Wong pushed seconds onto him as soon as his plate was cleaned the first time.

"Dessert?" Strange asked.

"What do you have?" Tony asked.

The doctor smirked. He should know better than to ask, but it was habit, he supposed.

"What do you want?"

"Apple pie?"

"With ice cream?"

"Of course."

Strange looked at Peter, who shook his head.

"I'm done."

He watched as the others finished their meal, enjoying the company and the fact that the cloak was doing the contented magical humming in his mind. It was relaxing. When the last of the pie was finished, Stark had to admit he was done, too.

"We'd better get going," he said. "I want to beat traffic, and we're expecting company."

Peter nodded, and they headed for the front door, accompanied by Strange.

"I'll probably come by tomorrow, or the next day," the doctor said. "Just to check on him."

"You're welcome anytime," Tony reminded him. "Whether to see Peter or not."

Even to see a certain spy, maybe. But he didn't say that. Instead, he shook Strange's hand and headed for the car.

"Thanks for having me," Peter told Strange as the cloak transferred itself from the boy to the doctor. "I'm sorry to have been such a burden"

"You aren't and you _weren't_ ," Stephen assured him. "You're welcome here any time. I mean that."

The boy nodded and got into the car, buckling himself in as Tony started the engine.

"Need to stop anywhere?" Stark asked as he pulled out into traffic.

"I'm good."

"Vision's coming by," Tony told him.

"You mentioned him before," Peter said. "Is he an Avenger?"

"Not really. He's… well, he's _unique_. You'll have to meet him to understand. He said he'd wait until we arrived."

As was becoming his habit, Tony set the heat up in the car, turned on the light music and watched as Peter fell asleep, again lulled by a full stomach and the powerful engine once they left the heavy traffic of the city and hit the highway. Leaning against Stark's side, which apparently was more comfortable than leaning against the hard window, he was sleeping peacefully, which was just the way Tony wanted it. He'd wake him up when they arrived, but after Vision had to leave, he'd send him to bed for the rest he obviously still needed.

Stark was allowing his attention to drift, both to various future projects he had only begun to conceptualize and to ones that were nearing completion. More than capable of watching the light traffic at the same time, he spent the drive to the compound debating how he wanted to apply the AI tech in his next Ironman suit to a suit he was considering as the next incarnation of War Machine.

As he turned off the main highway onto the unpaved road that led to the compound, though, he was pulled from his speculation when Peter suddenly whimpered.


	118. Chapter 119

_Author's Note: I'm not really big on cliffhangers, so I do apologize for that one (because I hate not knowing what happens next and having to wait to find out) but I wanted to work out my own interpretation of the mind stone before I put up this next chapter. Just remember that this is pretty much my own take on how each stone reacts and feels, so be gentle, please, if you hate it._

OOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Stark looked down at him, but the boy was still asleep. At least his eyes were closed. His face was pinched with pain, though, and Tony frowned, reaching down and putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Peter?"

There was no reaction other than another soft whimper, making Stark wonder if he was having a nightmare. He shook the boy, lightly, hoping to jar him out of it, and pressed his foot against the accelerator, figuring it would be best to get him back to the compound as soon as possible.

"Stop…"

"Peter?'

The whisper was laced with pain, breathless with it, and while he didn't open his eyes, Peter tensed under Tony's hand. Enough for him to know the boy wasn't asleep.

"Stop…"

"Hey, wake up. Talk to me. What's going on?"

The hand he wasn't sleeping on came up to cradle his head, brushing against Tony's arm as it did so and forcing him to shift his grip to avoid losing control of the car.

"Ow…"

"Peter?"

"Mr. Stark… I _can't_ … it hurts. Stop…"

"I'm not _doing_ anything. Hold on. We'll get to the compound and I'll call Stephen to get you figured out."

" _Please…"_

OOOOOOOOO

The pain wasn't to the point that he couldn't think. It had pulled him from sleep, first a vibration that reminded him of something soothing, a gentle caress that seemed to brush against his very mind, speaking to him, telling him about the creation of the universe and all those who would eventually come into existence. He watched the birth of worlds, some alive in their own right, some merely supporting life as it expanded across the surface. Creatures he'd never seen before, minds that were so complex he wondered if they were gods, and others so simple they might have confused him for a god if they had been aware of him watching them.

Then it change, subtly. The voice, or the vibration, or whatever it was – he couldn't even think of a word that would classify the power that was communicating with him – was still speaking to his mind. Was still telling him about itself, explaining what it had seen, what had been and what could be, seemingly content to have someone to communicate with that could feel it. But it was so powerful that he began to feel the faintest beginnings of pain from the contact.

The pain grew the closer he came to the source of that power.

He couldn't stop the groan of pain and felt that consciousness react to it with confusion. It understood that pain happened, but not that it was causing it. It caressed his mind again, much like the cloak of levitation would caress his cheek, trying to comfort him. To ease the discomfort. But the contact only hurt more as it focused its energy on their interaction, and he groaned again, starting to wake.

The source of the pain was concentrated. He could feel it. Ahead of him, somewhere. He felt the hand come down on his shoulder, but he couldn't open his eyes. Not with the way his head was throbbing just then. He didn't need to see, though, to know who it was, and the vibration grew stronger as it recognized _this_ might be a source of comfort as well and attempted to help Peter focus on the voice speaking to him, running the words through his mind repeatedly as if he hadn't heard them the first time.

"Stop…" he uttered, softly. Helplessly. Whether he was speaking to Stark or to the power that was getting more intense by the moment, he didn't know. Neither did it. "Please…"

He was jolted as the car came to a stop, abruptly, and only the seatbelt still across his chest kept him from rocking forward off the seat. The pain didn't grow worse, but it was still there, the power still trying to communicate with him. Still telling him its story.

"Peter? What's wrong?"

Stark was well and truly worried, now. The boy wasn't really responding to him, and he was suddenly fairly warm under his touch. He'd stopped the car because Peter had seemed so desperate for him to, but he couldn't do anything to help the boy on the side of the road.

"Peter. Wake up and talk to me."

He was surprised when the boy _did_ sit up, but he didn't open his eyes. He just held his head in his hands, taking deep breaths and rocking back and forth just a little, clearly in pain.

"Mr. Stark…"

"Yeah. Talk to me, Peter."

His arm was around the boy, trying to help him focus.

"It _hurts_."

"Your head?"

"Yeah."

Tony reached around Peter with his free hand and toggled his watch.

"Stephen, I need you."

There was a long pause, and he could see in his mind Strange figuring out where the voice was coming from, then who it was speaking to him, and finally pushing the proper button to respond.

" _Tony?"_

"Yeah. Something's wrong with Peter."

" _Where are you?"_

"On our way to the compound."

" _I'm going to need more than that."_

The watch sent coordinates to Strange's, but Stark didn't need the doctor to tell him that that wasn't going to do him any good.

"We just turned onto the service road, maybe a mile or two."

" _I'll find you. Hang on."_

OOOOOOOO

The group in the lounge wasn't a large one. Steve, Natasha, Clint and Bruce were sitting at a table with their guest who didn't come by all that often, but was always welcomed when he did. Vision wasn't drinking – he didn't really need to, of course – but the others all had refreshments in their hands while they caught up and waited for Stark to return.

"I am interested in meeting Peter," Vision told them, sincerely, listening to Clint and Natasha explain swimming lessons and why they were needed. He didn't understand why anyone would want to be in the water for fun, but had long since given up on truly understanding the humans around him. Even the ones who had helped create him, or who had stood with him after that creation. "He must be interesting."

"That he is," Clint agreed. "It's interesting to watch him swim."

Natasha nodded her own agreement to that, but frowned, because suddenly Vision seemed distracted.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Something is happening…"

Rogers was instantly alert. A perceived threat was never to be ignored.

"What is it?"

"The stone…" Vision was still trying to interpret what he was learning. "It's talking to someone…"

"Can it do that?' Banner asked, looking at the jewel in the center of Vision's forehead.

"It's never done it before." He frowned, an expression he had learned from the humans. "It is _hurting_ him, though."

"Who?"

"I must go." Vision stood without another word and walked out of the lounge, heading for the nearest exit. The others all followed, baffled at the sudden departure, and watched as he shot into the air the moment he was outside and was gone in an instant.

"What the _hell_?"

Clint said it, but they were all wondering it.

OOOOOOO

"What is it?"

"Something's wrong with Peter."

Strange tried to visualize the service road Stark had mentioned. He'd actually driven it, which helped, but in order to transfer himself somewhere, he had to know where to go. Even a portal required a destination, or he'd find himself miles away from where he was needed.

The doctor walked out of the library but was nearly throttled as the cloak of levitation latched itself on to him as he passed by the display it had been hanging in.

"Where is he?" Wong asked.

"I'm not entirely sure." Magic didn't use GPS, unfortunately.

The cloak tugged on him, urging him to move. It knew where Peter was. It always knew where to find him. It liked the boy and could feel him, no matter where he was. But it couldn't tell Strange where to go. It didn't work like that.

"We're going," Stephen told it – and Wong. He'd just start at the beginning of the road and work his way toward the end. It would take longer, but it couldn't be helped. He focused his power, put the image of his destination in his mind and transferred.

And felt something change that visualization right at the last moment. An image that wasn't his own and a power he'd never felt before suddenly taking over his now that he'd triggered the spell to move himself. Instead of appearing at the turn off of the service road and the highway, Strange found himself standing behind Tony Stark's car, which was parked on the side of the road nowhere near the turn off.

"What the _hell_?"

The cloak ignored the outburst and disengaged from Strange, propelling itself toward the vehicle, and the passengers inside.


	119. Chapter 120

Stark had unbuckled his seatbelt and Peter's and had his hand on the boy's shoulder, watching him intently. He still had his head in his hands, leaning forward until he was almost brushing against the dash, but he'd stopped rocking.

"Peter?"

"It's gone…"

"What's gone?"

Before the boy could answer, a tap on the window startled them both. Stark was so edgy that the arm holding Peter was suddenly encased in metal, pointing a weapon at what he assumed was a threat before he realized that it was the cloak tapping on the window.

He sighed, relieved, and the suit disengaged, and he leaned over Peter and opened the door. Where the cloak was, Strange would be as well.

The cloak tried to wrap itself around Peter, hindered by his hands blocking his face, but it had woven itself into any space it could find and was crooning comfortingly in Peter's mind by the time Strange arrived at the open door, kneeling down beside the car.

"What happened?" the doctor asked.

"I don't know," Tony admitted. "We were driving, he was asleep and then he wasn't – he was in pain, and kept telling me to stop."

Strange reached for Peter's forehead, moving the boy's hand to check his temperature.

"He's burning up."

"Something was talking to me," Peter said, looking at one and then the other, adroitly avoiding the cloak as it tried to cuddle his head.

"You had a dream?" Strange asked.

"I don't know. It wasn't _scary_ – until it started hurting."

"What was it?"

"I don't _know_ ," Peter repeated, his head drooping. "Someone was in my mind."

"That's not possible," Strange told him. "Wong's spell has blocked any mental attacks."

"It wasn't attacking me. It was _talking_ to me."

"About what?" Tony asked before Strange could.

"The universe…" That was all he remembered, anyway.

"But-"

"Wait, Tony," Strange said. "Let's get him out of here and get his fever down."

It would also give the boy a chance to regain his equilibrium and maybe they could get a better idea of what had happened.

"Maybe Vision can…" Tony trailed off, his expression blank as he suddenly had the ah ha moment that he had been searching for since Strange had mentioned the Infinity stone in the Sanctum. "Son of a _bitch_."

"What?"

"We can't take Peter to the compound."

"Why not?"

"Vision's there."

"Who is Vision?" Strange asked, confused.

"He's an AI," Tony explained, his hand going to Peter's forehead once more. "A _creation_. Thor technically brought him to life, although it was a joint effort."

"I don't understand. What does this Vision have to do with anything?"

"Because he's got a jewel in his forehead," Tony explained. "An Infinity stone."

"What?"

Tony looked at Peter, who was watching him, but was obviously not following along too well. He was still in the throes of the fever and the remembered pain and his expression was glazed at best.

"The Mind stone."

"It's gone, now," Peter said, leaning back against the leather of the bucket seat and closing his eyes.

"Make sure before we take him there," Strange ordered Stark.

Tony activated his watch.

"Romanoff?"

" _Yeah, Tony?"_ the response was immediate.

"Where's Vision?"

" _He just bugged out,"_ the reply came from Steve Rogers, who was still standing with the others at the entrance. _"He said something about the stone hurting someone, and that he had to leave and he did."_

" _What's going on Tony?"_ Natasha asked. _"Are you-"_

"We're coming in, now," Stark interrupted. "I'll tell you what we know when we get there."

He didn't start the car, though. It was fine where it was and he had a much faster way of getting Peter where he needed to be, now that Stephen was there. He opened his door, getting out of the car and walking around to get Peter, but Strange had already pulled the boy out of his seat and had him in his arms, well aware of what Tony had in mind.

He approved.

"Ready?"

"Yeah."

A moment later they were in Peter's quarters.

'What does he need?" Tony asked as Strange carried to the boy into his bedroom and put him on top of the blankets.

"We need to cool him off," Stephen told him as the cloak moved itself out of the way to allow the doctor room to do what he needed, and to avoid warming Peter further. " _Slowly_. Otherwise we risk shocking his system and making things worse."

This wasn't the first time he'd done it, after all.

"What can I do?"

"I can handle things here," Strange assured him. "Go find out what happened."

The adhesive ice packs were already on the stand by Peter's bed, and he started to help Peter out of his shirt.

"You're sure?"

Tony obviously was torn between doing just that and leaving Peter when he wasn't sure that the boy didn't need him, more.

"He's fine," Stephen told him.

"I'm okay," Peter said at almost the same time.

He was hot, and felt wiped out from the pain he'd endured, but he wasn't hurting or anything.

Stark nodded and left.

OOOOOOOOO

The group had headed back to the lounge, meeting Tony on the way.

"That was quick," Clint said.

"Strange is here."

Which explained everything.

"What happened?" Natasha asked as they walked into the lounge.

Before he answered, Stark went to the bar, reached over and grabbed a bottle with one hand and a glass with the other, pouring himself a much needed drink.

"Apparently Peter is ultra-sensitive to the Infinity stones. Strange has one in the Sanctum in the city and it tried to flatten him." The boy might have said it hadn't been serious, but after seeing what the Mind stone had done from a distance of a few miles, there was no reason to believe that the stone in the Sanctum hadn't had a much more when it had been a lot closer.

"What?"

"He _warned_ me," Tony said, shaking his head and taking a drink. "But I didn't make the connection, because we don't keep one here."

"And Vision hasn't been here while Peter was sick," Banner said, catching on immediately. He _was_ a genius, after all.

"Right."

"What happened?" Steve asked.

"It started hurting him as we got closer. I drove him right into it and didn't even realize it was happening until it was too late."

"Is he okay?" Natasha asked. She could hear the self-incrimination in Stark's voice and see it in his expression, but there was time to worry about that later.

"Stephen is with him. He says he's going to be fine." He finished his drink. "What happened here?"

Steve gave him a quick summary of the events as they unfolded, including the sudden departure of Vision once he realized something was wrong.

"So what do we do?" Clint asked.

"We keep the two apart," Bruce said.

Duh.

Stark nodded his agreement. But he _did_ want to talk to Vision about what had happened. Just not then.


	120. Chapter 121

When Stark returned to Peter's room he was carrying a thermos of coffee and a cup for Strange, which he put on the bedside stand. The boy was laying in the bed but propped up by a pile of pillows. There were cooling pads stuck to his bare sides and one against his forehead. His eyes were closed, but he opened them when Stark walked in. His expression was still a little glazed, but he didn't seem to be any worse.

"How's he doing?"

"Still hot," Stephen said, pouring himself a cup of coffee with a nod of thanks "But he'll be fine, I think."

"Does he need anything?"

"Just a chance to rest."

"Peter?"

The boy nodded.

"I'm okay."

"What happened?" Strange asked.

Tony sat on the edge of Peter's bed and told them what he had been told by the others. It didn't take long.

"What do _you_ remember?" Stark asked Peter.

He had closed his eyes while listening to Stark, but opened them.

"It was a bunch of pictures in my mind…" he said. "Showing me planets, and… things… people, maybe? Nothing I recognized."

"Planets, huh?" Stark looked like he wanted to ask more about that, but he didn't. "When did it start hurting?"

"I don't know. It didn't at first. Then it hurt a little, and then it got worse until it really hurt. I don't think it was _trying_ to, though."

"Interesting," Strange said. He looked at Tony. "Tell me more about Vision."

Tony did just that, explaining first the background of the Mind stone, and how it had been concealed in the tesseract first, only to be revealed as an Infinity stone much later and then used to create Vision as a defense against Ultron, which was another story entirely and took a little longer to tell.

Peter fell asleep during it, but Strange was an attentive audience, asking intelligent questions that reminded Stark just how smart his companion was. When the story was finished, the doctor nodded his approval at the decision made to leave the stone where it was. Obviously it was safe, since he and Wong hadn't felt any stirrings of anything malicious involved with the Infinity stone even though it had been on Earth for a while, now.

He reached over and carefully checked Peter's forehead.

"He's still pretty warm," Strange said. "At the Sanctum I used a wet cloth to cool him, but the cooling pads should do the trick."

"If they don't?"

"Then we use a washcloth. Don't worry, Tony, he didn't take any permanent damage."

"I know." He'd still worry, though. "Let me ask you a magic related question…"

"Sure."

"Did you find my car with magic?"

"Not with my _own_ ," the doctor admitted. "If I've been someplace, or seen it, I can move myself there or portal in. I can even use a photo or a video. Otherwise I use a spell from one of the books in the library. It wouldn't work for finding someone if I don't know where they are."

"How did you find us so quickly, then?"

"I'm not a hundred percent sure," he said. "My transfer spell was hijacked."

"What?"

"I was going to start at the beginning of the road and work my way inward, because I knew the road, but not where you were at on it. But we ended up where we needed to be on the first try."

"How? The Mind stone?"

"No. In order to interject into my spell the source would have had to be much closer. If I had to guess I'd say it was the cloak."

"Really?"

He shrugged, looking at the relic, which was quietly cuddled near Peter's neck without actually touching him.

"When we come here, I just follow it to find Peter. The cloak always seems to know where to look first."

"That's handy."

"Yes."

"Is there any way to combine the tech of the watch I gave you with magic? You know, to make it easier for you to portal to where someone is if there was an emergency?"

"Magic doesn't work that way."

"Why not?"

"Because it doesn't."

"Could it?"

He hesitated, and then shrugged.

"Maybe? It'd be something to look into."

Not today, but he could discuss it with Wong. It'd be a good distraction from not being able to make any gains with the fevers caused by the magic around Peter.

"Let me know if I can help."

Strange nodded, but before he could say anything else there was a light tap on the door and Natasha was there, leaning against the door frame.

"Vision checked in."

"Where is he?" Tony asked.

"The tower. You want to go talk to him?"

He hesitated, looking at Peter's sleeping form.

"I'll watch him," Natasha offered.

"I'd like to meet him," Strange told Stark. Natasha was his first choice to watch Peter if he had to pick someone.

"Yeah." Taking Stephen had the added advantage of an immediate transport. Tony could go Ironman to save a drive, but if Strange wanted to come then they could go and get back before Peter even knew they were gone. "Now?"

Strange nodded and stood up, but looked at Natasha.

"Need anything?"

"Is there still coffee in that thermos?"

"Of course."

There hadn't been, but now there was. Suddenly there was also a plate of treats, brownies, little cakes and tarts beside the bed as well.

"Deck of cards…"

One appeared, and Natasha had to stop herself from making an entire list of things, just because it was so amazing to see them appear out of nowhere.

"If he wakes up call me," Tony said.

She nodded, and sat down on the edge of the bed.

"If he wakes up have him drink this," Strange said, and a glass appeared next to the coffee thermos, filled with something that wasn't water.

They both vanished, and she shook her head, amused, pouring herself a cup of coffee.

"If he wakes up, I'll just keep him to myself for a while," she muttered.


	121. Chapter 122

Vision was waiting for them on the deck of the tower. Strange had seen the place plenty of times, but he had transferred himself and Tony to the street entrance, so they had to take the elevator up to the area that Stark used as personal living spaces when he wasn't at the Avenger's facility.

"Nice place," Stephen said, looking around as they left the elevator.

"I'll show you around before we leave," Stark offered.

Vision saw them coming and let himself in, and gave Strange a cursory glance before greeting Tony. Stephen's look was a bit longer, since he'd never seen anything that looked like Vision before. It didn't bother Vision, since he was used to it.

"This is Dr. Stephen Strange," Tony said, introducing the two. "This is Vision."

"A pleasure, Doctor."

Vision held his hand out and Strange shook it, but his gaze was drawn to the jewel in the machines forehead.

"It's nice to meet you, too."

"You want to know about the Mind stone," Vision said, without preamble, looking at Stark.

"Yeah. What happened?"

"It connected to the boy. I felt it communicating with him. It's never done that before."

"Peter's sensitive to the Infinity stones," Strange said.

"The stone felt him and tried to teach him what it was. It took me a moment to realize what was happening, and that the contact was hurting the boy."

"We got too close," Tony explained.

"Yes. Was he injured?"

"Nothing that can't be fixed."

"I wasn't aware the stones were self-aware," Strange said.

Vision looked at him.

"Are you an expert in the Infinity stones?" It wasn't a challenge, merely a question.

"I wield the Time stone."

"You must be powerful, indeed."

"I have my moments."

"The stones are not alive, as you and I would define it," Vision said. "But they _can_ act on their own to a point, and have their own personalities, for lack of a better word. I am not familiar with the others, aside from what I have learned of them from the Mind stone, but _it_ is not evil, or with malice. When it realized it was hurting the boy it tried to pull back, and to comfort. Of course, it was not successful, but the intent was there."

"So what do we do?" Tony asked.

"I will stay away from the boy. The stone cannot harm if it is not close at hand."

"You can't shield it?" Strange asked.

"No."

"I really wanted you to meet him," Stark said.

"We can still communicate." He paused. "I will tell you this, however. The stone is aware of the boy, now, and is intrigued by the fact that it can connect to him. There is no guarantee that it will not try to converse with him in the future."

"What?"

"It might attempt to contact him, to learn more of him and to pass its knowledge on to him, if it can."

"How do we stop that?"

"We don't. I can keep it from harming him by staying away, but as the doctor knows, the stones are extremely powerful. They can be channeled, but one can never claim to be the master of an Infinity stone."

Tony looked at Strange, who nodded his agreement.

"He's right about that. I _wield_ the Time stone, and it makes me a master of time when I need to be, but I would never claim to be the stone's master."

"Very wise," Vision said.

"Well that's not good," Tony said, scowling. One more thing to worry about.

"It isn't as terrible as you may think. As I said, the stone is intrigued by him. It will not hurt him."

"But it might mess with him."

"Perhaps. And maybe not. I just wanted you to be aware of the possibility."

Stark nodded.

"Thanks."

They spoke a little longer, but then Vision excused himself and left, walking out onto the deck and then flying away.

Tony looked at Stephen.

"What do _you_ think about all this?"

"I don't even know what to think," Strange admitted. "He hasn't really done much to assuage my concerns."

"Yeah, Vision's not good at sugar-coating things. He never has been. If he keeps the stone far enough away from Peter to not hurt him, we can warn him that it might try to stop in and say hi every now and then and at least he can be aware of the possibility and not be freaked out if it happens."

"It sounds like that's all we really can do."

Neither man liked that, of course.

"How about a tour before we head back?"

Natasha hadn't called them, so Peter must still be asleep, and Strange hadn't been in the tower. Tony liked showing it off to an appreciative audience. And, unlike the Sanctum, he hadn't lost the tower in a bet.

"Sure."

OOOOOOOOOOO

Peter woke slowly, allowing his senses to tell him what was going on around him before he even opened his eyes to look around. He could smell coffee, which always smelled good even though he hadn't acquired a taste for it yet, and he could hear someone moving nearby. Natasha, from the faint perfume that he could always associate with her.

He waited a moment, getting his bearings and waiting for a headache or some other pain to assault him, but aside from being warm, he didn't feel too bad.

He opened his eyes, and saw she was sitting on his bed, a solitaire game in front of her, next to his leg. He moved his hand just enough to touch her hip, letting her know that he was awake.

She looked over and smiled.

"Did I wake you?"

"No."

Romanoff set the cards down, and leaned over him, touching his forehead, gently.

"How do you feel?"

"Okay," he answered, truthfully. "Just hot."

"Yeah, you still have the fever, but it's not as bad as it was." She gathered up the cards from the bed and put them on his stand and picked up the glass. "Stephen told me to make you drink this if you wake up."

Peter nodded and drank it down. It was more of Wong's drink, even though he had no idea what was in it. It was as refreshing as always, but it didn't do anything to wake him up, and he was still tired.

"Thanks."

She took the glass back.

"Are you hungry? I could go get you something. Or you can have a brownie…"

He shook his head, and closed his eyes.

"Keep me company?"

He didn't see the smile, but he felt her lean over him again, and felt her brush a kiss against his forehead, her hair tickling his cheeks.

"Of course."


	122. Chapter 123

When Stark and Strange walked into Peter's bedroom, the boy and Natasha were sitting on his bed, side by side and propped up with a mountain of pillows. Romanoff had brought his video game system into the bedroom and the two were playing a racing game. Peter had his head resting on Natasha's shoulder, but aside from that obvious tell of exhaustion, he was awake and mostly alert.

Strange noticed the glass he'd left was empty and a glance refilled it again, and set a spell that would keep it from needing him to refill it again.

Both men walked over to the bed, immediately taking in the scene and checking Peter for any sign of discomfort.

"I told you to call," Stark reminded Natasha.

She didn't take her eyes off the TV, her sports car was only a little behind the boy's and she had no intention of being second place.

"He hasn't been awake long," she told him, unrepentant.

Stark walked around to the other side of the bed, sitting down next to where the Cloak of Levitation had piled itself beside the boy and was caressing him absently with one corner of fabric. Tony assumed correctly that he was still fevered and that was why the thing wasn't draped over him and cuddling.

Sure enough, when he checked his forehead, it was still hot. Not dangerously so, but warm enough that there was no way he was going to get out of bed. A hand brushed against the icepack on Peter's forehead advised him it was still cold, and so still doing its job. Just not quickly enough for Tony.

Strange reached over Natasha, trying not to block her view of the TV and also checked peter's forehead.

"How do you feel?"

"Okay."

"Warm?"

"Yeah."

Natasha suddenly swiped her car into the rear quarter panel of Peter's and his car sailed off the freeway that they'd been driving on, right before the finish line. She grinned her success and dropped the controller as the game pronounced her the victor.

"Smooth," Peter told her.

"Had to wait until the right minute."

Of course.

"He's supposed to be resting," Tony reminded her.

"He wasn't _really_ driving," she pointed out. "Just wiggling his fingers."

"Peter?" Strange said, ignoring the two. "How's your head? Any headaches or any pain?"

He shook his head, sitting up a little and abandoning Natasha's shoulder as a head rest.

"No. Nothing like that. Just warm."

"Are you hungry?"

"Yeah."

He wasn't _starving_ , but he'd eat – if only to keep them all from worrying.

"Natasha? Do you need a break? Or would you like to join us for dinner?"

"I could eat."

Besides, the company was good.

The controllers were set aside and a table designed to sit on the bed appeared over Peter's lap. Big enough to hold four settings, there were suddenly plates and cutlery, along with coffee cups for the adults and the glass of Wong's concoction for Peter. Strange simply asked what each of them wanted and their plates were filled.

"I could get used to this," Natasha said, approvingly.

Stephen simply smiled.

"So what did Vision say?" she asked, cutting into her salmon.

"Pretty much everything we figured," Tony reported, giving her and Peter a rundown of what had been discussed while they all ate their dinner. "We don't need to worry about any physical pain – Vision can sense if Peter's here before he comes – but the stone might still try and communicate with you, so be careful if that happens."

"And let us know if it does," Strange added, curious what kind of conversation an Infinity stone might have with the boy.

"Okay."

Peter wasn't worried about that happening, he just didn't want to have the painful interaction, and it sounded like that had been addressed.

"What's the plan, Stephen?" Stark asked as they finished dinner and the doctor produced a few slices of white cake and a couple of chocolate ones for dessert.

"Same as before. If his fever breaks tonight we'll restart water therapy in the morning and get some weight back on him. If it _doesn't_ , we'll keep him in bed until it does, and _then_ restart water therapy."

Tony looked at Peter, who nodded. He didn't mind that plan.

"Any restrictions?"

"Just common sense. Don't let him overdo anything, and try not to let him hurt himself, _please_?"

Natasha smiled at that.

"We'll do our best," Stark promised, also a bit amused, but a little chagrined at the fact that they really weren't doing a good job in that department. Of course, it wasn't for the lack of trying. He'd just keep a closer eye on things the next couple of days, until they got into a pattern.

"I'll stop in and check on things here and there," Strange told them, clearing the table and dishes when he saw that everyone was done eating. The coffee cups stayed, but now they were on saucers to keep from spilling on Peter's bed.

"You do that."

They sat and talked about other things – mostly the Time stone when Natasha brought it up – and the doctor described it and some of what it could do. It might have seemed far-fetched to them, but Natasha and Stark had both seen the Mind stone in action, and Peter had no reason to doubt anything that he was told. Especially after being touched by the Mind stone and the immense knowledge the thing had tried to share with him.

Finally, deciding that they were enough of a distraction that they were keeping Peter awake when Strange wanted him sleeping, he stood up.

"The ice packs will stay cool as long as they're needed," he told them. "When he goes to sleep, cover him in case the fever breaks, but don't panic if it doesn't."

Stark and Natasha both nodded.

He looked pointedly at the cloak, which hadn't moved from its spot beside Peter.

"Are you coming?"

It gave the boy a final caress and drifted over to Strange, attaching itself to his collar.

"Good night," Natasha said, smiling.

He returned it and then vanished.

Stark shook his head.

"What is it with you and magical artifacts?" he asked Peter, torn between bemusement and bewilderment.

The boy just shrugged. He didn't have a clue, but when they weren't _hurting_ him, he liked them.


	123. Chapter 124

_"How did you do that?"_

 _"Magic."_

 _"There's no_ such _thing."_

 _"Of course there_ is _."_

 _He was in Peter's room – the medical room, not the new quarters that Stark had given him, and was proving that yes, there was, indeed, magic._

 _A book appeared in his hand and he handed it Peter._

 _"How else would you explain it?"_

 _"Some kind of transporter technology."_

 _"Nope. Did you feel anything?"_

 _"No."_

 _"What did you feel?"_

 _"_ Nothing _."_

 _"It's magic."_

 _"I didn't feel anything… I didn't feel anything…"_

Strange woke up, abruptly. He stared at the ceiling in his room, trying to understand what the dream was telling him. He had a photographic memory and utilized it regularly, but he couldn't understand why he was focusing on such an uninteresting moment, when there were many that could be dreamed about that were a lot more remarkable. Especially where Peter and the Avengers were concerned.

He went through the dream again, and then sat up, and threw his blankets aside, realizing what he had heard, but not yet sure how to apply it, or f it could _be_ applied.

He needed to go to the library.

OOOOOOO

Peter's fever was still in control when Tony Stark went by the boy's room to check on him the next morning. He was laying on his side, a pillow cradled against his bare stomach and his face flushed, even while asleep. Sometime during the night he'd thrown off the blanket that had been draped over him, to ward off any chill if the fever broke.

Stark didn't really need the hand on the boy's forehead to know it would be warm, but it was habit. He gently shook the boy's shoulder.

"Peter?"

The boy's eyes opened, sleepily, and he looked at Stark without raising his head from the pillows.

"Hmmm?"

"No water therapy today, okay? Go back to sleep."

Peter frowned.

"You woke me up to tell me to go back to sleep?"

Tony hesitated.

"Well, when you put it _that_ way it just sounds ridiculous…"

Peter closed his eyes again, but nodded his agreement.

"Okay."

"How do you feel?"

"Hot."

"Yeah." Stark ran his hand along the boy's forehead and then his cheek. He _was_ hot, but not more than he had been, so he wasn't going to worry just yet. "Get some rest."

When Tony walked into the commissary a short time later, the others were eating breakfast, gearing up for their day.

"How is he?" Natasha asked.

She didn't bother to ask if he'd checked on Peter. They all knew that would have been his first stop.

"Still fevered."

Tony had already eaten with Pepper, so he just had a cup of coffee and sat with them, discussing their plans for the day. Clint and Steve were making a quick jump to Montreal but didn't plan on being gone too long, and Natasha intended to work on some training scenarios that she, Clint and Steve had worked out. Not exactly a readiness drill, but similar.

"If you need anything, call," Steve told Stark as he and Clint got up.

"I will."

He had some tech he was planning on working on, but nothing that wouldn't allow him to check in on Peter several times. Just to make sure he wasn't going the wrong direction.

He sat with Natasha for a while, but then decided he'd procrastinated long enough and excused himself to get his day started as well.

Although he _did_ stop in Peter's room once more on his way back to his own – just to see if there had been any change.

OOOOOOOO

Wong found Strange in the library. Which wasn't a surprise or anything, of course. He _was_ surprised to see that he was still wearing what he'd slept in, and looked as though he'd been there quite a while. Near at hand, the cloak was hanging in its display.

"What are you working on?" he asked, setting a cup of coffee in front of him on the table.

"Following up on a dream I had last night."

His friend waited for more, but the doctor was reading and clearly distracted. Wong glanced at the books he had in front of him, but they were mostly about botany so that didn't really tell him too much. Since Strange wasn't to the point that he was ready to toss ideas out at him, the other man decided he might as well go have breakfast.

OOOOOOOOO

By the time lunch came around, Peter's fever was still had the upper hand. Tony had checked in on him several times, and had brought him breakfast a few hours after waking up him the first time. Breakfast the boy hadn't been interested in eating, no matter how many different options Stark had given him. He'd managed to get a glass of the Wong drink down him, but Peter had drifted back to sleep not long after, miserable enough that he wasn't even interested in the tech Tony told him he was working on.

When Stark brought lunch, he also brought Natasha, figuring that between the two of them they should be able to persuade him to eat something. She was more than willing to be an accomplice and it was Romanoff who woke Peter, touching his cheek with a gentle hand and whispering his name.

The boy opened his eyes and even managed a tired smile, but when she mentioned lunch he told her that he wasn't very hungry.

"You need to eat, Peter," Natasha told him, before Stark could. "Come on, have a little bit and we'll let you go back to sleep."

He nodded, forcing himself upright and Tony gave Natasha the tray to put over the boy's lap. They'd gone for easy to eat and not too warm, so lunch was a chicken sandwich and potato salad, with pudding. Peter finished the sandwich with a little gentle persuasion from Romanoff, and the potato salad only because he figured they'd let him go to sleep if he did, but he shook his head at the pudding and leaned back into his pillow, clearly losing the battle with his exhaustion.

They watched him fall asleep, and then left him to his nap.

"Should we be worried yet?" Natasha asked as they closed the door behind him.

"Stephen said not to worry, so I will try very hard not to worry."

"But…?"

"But I'll call him later, just to check in."


	124. Chapter 125

When dinner came Peter was still sleeping restlessly and still fevered. He opened his eyes when Natasha woke him but he wouldn't eat for her.

"You need to eat," she told him.

He shook his head, which he didn't lift from the pillows.

"I can't."

Stark wondered if being sick for so long was making the boy petulant, but Natasha could read him better than Tony, and she was closer. She could see his courage failing. Being sick wasn't something he was used to, of course. Being sick for so long, only to have so many setbacks was making it worse. Yes, he was being treated well and when he wasn't miserable, he was enjoying the company of those around him, but the inexorable fever was the final straw, and Romanoff was truly concerned.

She wasn't the only one, though.

"I'm going to call Stephen…"

She nodded, and Tony turned and walked into the boy's living room area, already lifting his watch to his mouth. Natasha rested her hand on Peter's cheek. His eyes were open, but his expression was miserable and his face was flushed.

"You're going to beat this, Peter," she told him, giving him a reassuring smile.

He tried to echo it, but his lower lip trembled, instead, and she saw a tear trickle down his nose.

"I'm _tired_ , Natasha…"

She wiped the tear away, feeling her heart break at just _how_ tired he sounded, and how defeated he looked.

"I know. We'll get you squared away. You'll see."

He didn't look convinced, and she brushed a kiss against his warm cheek.

Peter closed his eyes, but she knew he wasn't sleeping. Less than two minutes later, Stark returned, Strange beside him and the Cloak of Levitation whipping over to the boy's bedside, where it hovered near Natasha and only reached a corner of fabric out to caress the same cheek Natasha was cupping.

"Still fevered?" Strange asked, unnecessarily, reaching over to brush his hand against Peter's forehead.

"He isn't throwing it off," Natasha said, not hiding her concern.

"Romanoff was _worried_ ," Tony said, trying to act nonchalant and failing. "She insisted I call you in."

Strange nodded, and sat on the edge of the bed as well. Natasha decided that he looked tired, even though he was dressed as sharply as always and looked ready for a high class social engagement.

"Wong's theory is that the Time stone had less effect on Peter because it was only in contact with him for a moment. It was a lot closer, and he got hit with a bigger shock, but it only lasted as long as it took me to move him – and the cloak might have been able to mute the energies a bit. The contact with the Mind stone lasted several minutes and was much more intimate, actively speaking to Peter."

"What do we do?" Tony asked.

"We'll try cooling him off with a wet cloth, like I did at the Sanctum."

He held up his hand and a cloth appeared in it. It was about the size of a washcloth and was cool and slightly damp. Natasha moved out of the way and watched as Strange rolled the boy enough that he was on his back, propped up by the pillows and ran the cloth over Peter's face and then down his neck to his chest and belly.

"The bruises are fading nicely," he noted, as he started the cloth back at Peter's face again.

Stark had to agree. They were yellowing in many places, now, and still looked bad, but now it was hard to see the telltale evidence that they'd been so serious.

"Here," he said, stepping up and holding his hand out. "I'll do that."

Strange seemed to understand that Tony still felt that the whole Mind stone episode was his fault, for not figuring out the danger Vision represented to Peter sooner. Not to mention being the one that literally drove the boy into that danger in the first place. He didn't say anything, he just handed the cloth over to Stark and he and Natasha both stepped back from the bed to give him room.

An instant later there were two chairs beside Peter's bed, and Strange lowered himself into one with a sigh.

"You look tired," Natasha observed, brushing her fingers against his temple before she sat in the other chair.

He didn't deny it.

"I spent the day in the library, doing some research."

"On what?" Stark asked, curiously, looking up from running the cloth over Peter's face.

"Something Peter said to me," Strange replied. He held his hand up before either of them could ask the obvious. "It's barely a thought right now. Once I know more, and have a better grasp on it, I'll share it."

They had to settle for that promise since he was obviously not going to tell them anything else.

"Should I get a bowl of water?" Natasha asked.

The doctor shook his head.

"You don't need it. It won't dry up, or warm up. What has he eaten today?"

"He wouldn't eat breakfast," Stark said. "We managed a chicken sandwich and some potato salad for lunch and he said he can't eat dinner."

"That's when we called you," Natasha said, unnecessarily.

"He needs to eat."

"He says he can't," Tony repeated. "Not _won't_. Just can't."

Strange stood up and moved to the other side of the bed, and settled himself in right beside Peter. Then he smoothly moved the boy from the pillows to a position that propped him up against the doctor.

"Watch what I do, and repeat it every four hours, no matter what he says."

A moment later there was a protein shake in Strange's hand.

"That's banana," Natasha pointed out.

Which was Stephen's flavor of choice, but they both knew wasn't Peter's. It changed to chocolate. Strange shook it and then opened it, and tapped Peter's cheek lightly to get his attention. The boy had fallen asleep some time during the doctor's arrival, but he opened his eyes, looking up at Strange.

"Drink this."

Peter shook his head, but he was done fighting, really, and when Strange held the drink against his lips he drank it down without argument. Stephen held him still to make sure he didn't spill, and when it was gone, he tossed the empty bottle into the garbage can by the refrigerator.

"One every four hours, guys," he ordered. "Until he's eating regularly."

They both nodded, and the doctor transferred Peter back to the pillows.

"And this?" Stark asked, holding up the cloth.

"Until the fever breaks. If you get tired, call me and I'll take over. It won't be the first time."

Which was also his way of reminding Tony that yes, he'd driven Peter into the Mind stone, but only _after_ Strange had exposed the boy to the very real danger of the Time stone.

"You're leaving?"

"Unless you need me here. I want to get back to the library."

Stark looked at Natasha, who shook her head. She was pretty sure the two of them could handle things. If not, there were always the others who could take over.

"Thanks for coming."

"Any time." The cloak attached itself to Strange's collar with a final caress for Peter. "And don't forget to eat something, yourselves," he reminded them as he vanished.


	125. Chapter 126

Someone was touching his cheek, caressing it gently. Not annoying, but enough to pull him from a dreamless sleep. The cheerful humming in his mind that accompanied each touch told him it wasn't someone, it was some _thing_. It grew even more cheerful when the cloak realized he was awake, and now the thing was practically crooning to him, soothing him and letting him know how glad it was that he was finally awake.

Peter opened his eyes, expecting to see Doctor Strange since the cloak was there, but instead saw Natasha sitting on the edge of his bed, a book in her hand but her attention on him.

She smiled when she saw his eyes open, but wasn't surprised. They'd expected him to wake up any time, now.

"Hey…"

She reached over and brushed her hand against his forehead, although it wasn't necessary. The fever had broken the night before and had stayed down. One reason the cloak was allowed to cuddle against him like it was, since Strange had forbidden it from being close while he'd been fighting off the fever. No sense adding to the problem of a magic related fever by bringing in a magical relic, no matter how much it wanted to spend time with the boy. It had taken a while to make the thing understand, since Peter wasn't able to explain it himself, but eventually the thing seemed to understand and stayed clear of the boy's room.

"Hi, Natasha."

"How do you feel?"

"Tired."

She nodded.

"I know. Think you can eat something?"

He shook his head.

"I'm not hungry."

"A shake, then."

He sighed, but didn't argue and she went to his fridge and opened it.

"Strawberry?"

"I don't care."

Peter couldn't remember a lot from the past few days, but he remembered a seemingly endless parade of people shoving protein shakes down him. He watched her return to his bed and let her gather him into her arms to help him get upright. It wasn't something he was quite ready to do on his own, yet.

He closed his eyes as a wave of exhaustion surged over him even from just that little movement. The cloak moved itself out of Natasha's way, having learned that Peter wasn't always able to drink the shakes without spilling – and that very morning he'd thrown up on it when Stark had settled him onto his back a little too soon after Peter had downed a chocolate shake that just hadn't set right with his stomach for some reason. The cloak did _not_ care for being cleaned, and even something as old as it was could still learn from new experiences.

"Here, Peter."

She held the bottle for him and he drank it without protest, but he promised himself when he was better he was never going to drink another protein shake in his life.

When he finished, Natasha held him for a moment, giving the shake a chance to settle and just content to hold him, since he was willing to let her.

It had been a rough few days for the boy – and those who were taking care of him. Nothing like when he'd been fighting off the delirium from the nutmeg thing; Peter didn't fight them, didn't seem to have any nightmares and whenever he woke, he knew who they were. But it was a concerted effort to keep him cool with the cloth, force the shakes down him and try to bolster his flagging spirits whenever he was awake.

Strange and Stark had taken over his care for the most part. The Avengers had a lot to do, even when they weren't saving the planet from the obvious threats, and Tony had put his entire schedule on hold because it was a lot easier for _him_ to do that than the others. Strange would alternate with him, patiently spending hours with the boy, keeping him cool and talking to him about little things the few times he would wake up. Stark had set the doctor up with VIP quarters at the facility to keep him from needing to pop back and forth between the Sanctum, and when he wasn't with Peter the doctor would spend time in his room, still studying various books from the library. The cloak was almost always with Peter once the fever broke.

In the evening, Natasha would join the effort. She was the best at getting Peter to drink the shakes – taking advantage of their special relationship to gently cajole him into doing whatever it was she needed from him. Which was usually as simple as downing the drink and going back to sleep.

When the fever had finally broken, the schedule had relaxed a bit, but no one was ready to breathe easy until Peter woke so Strange would have a chance to examine him to make sure there had been no lasting damage.

"Your aunt came by earlier," she told him. "She brought you a bunch of new homework."

"Was she okay?"

"Of course," Natasha assured him. "Just worried about you. Stephen talked to her, though."

It was a measure of just how tired Peter was that he didn't have the energy to fret about May being worried. He just accepted Natasha's assurance, knowing that Doctor Strange would have picked the right words to reassure May.

"Thanks…"

"Are you going back to sleep?" she asked him, running her fingers along his forehead, pushing his hair back.

He nodded, shifting a little in her arms to be more comfortable, and the cloak decided it would be safe to cuddle once more. Since it couldn't wrap itself around Peter with Natasha holding him the way she was, the relic positioned itself against the boy's chest and tucked up under his chin, once more humming contentedly into Peter's mind as it stroked the cheek that wasn't resting against Natasha.

It was amazing what one could get used to, Romanoff decided as she watched the cloak settle in. She waited until she felt Peter fall asleep and then tapped her earbud.

"He woke up, guys."


	126. Chapter 127

"Peter…"

He opened his eyes and found Dr. Strange sitting on the edge of his bed, watching him. It hadn't been _Strange_ who had said his name, however, and when the cushion he was resting against shifted slightly he knew that Natasha was still holding him, like she had been when he'd fallen asleep. He felt a little guilty about that; it couldn't be comfortable, and was probably boring to have no way of doing anything while someone was snoring in your ear. Or against your collarbone in his case.

The doctor reached over and brushed his hand against the boy's forehead, and since his expression didn't darken, Peter assumed he was satisfied with his progress.

"How do you feel?"

The same way he always did, lately. _Tired_. Peter didn't say that, though, knowing that it would have been wrong. Especially since _Strange_ looked tired, too.

"Okay."

"Ready to try eating more than a shake?"

He wasn't. But he nodded. He really didn't want to try and choke down another protein shake, and if he'd said no that was exactly what would have happened. And he knew it.

"Okay."

"Requests?"

Peter shook his head, looking out the window in his room to get some idea of what time it was, breakfast or dinner. It was dark, that was all he knew for sure, and those spider senses of his didn't let him tell time just by feel. The cloak was holding his arm down so he couldn't look at his watch, but he wasn't sure he'd have had the energy to lift his arm anyway.

"Something easy…"

"Good choice."

Natasha shifted behind him once more, letting him go and moving him back to the pile of pillows to be propped up to be able to eat with a bit more ease. A lap table appeared on his bed with a bowl of oatmeal and a slice of toast.

"Raisons? Brown sugar? Anything like that?"

"Yeah, please."

He had to admit that it was a good choice, and not one he would have picked himself. The cloak moved out of the way, coming to rest on Strange's collar where it would be safe if the boy's stomach rejected the idea of a solid meal for the first time in three days. Strange wasn't too concerned, though. Oatmeal would fill him nicely and was bland enough – even with the add-ons – that it would go down easily and almost certainly stay there. Tony had told him Peter hadn't held down one of the shakes, but the doctor was sure that had only been a one-time thing, since it hadn't happened before, or since.

"I'm going to let you eat," Natasha told him, brushing a kiss against his cheek before sliding off the far side of the bed. "You have him, Stephen?"

Strange nodded.

"We're fine. Thanks, Natasha."

They both watched her leave, and then Strange gestured to his oatmeal, and Peter picked up the spoon.

"Your fever broke last night. Finally."

"Yeah. I don't feel hot."

"You're not." He leaned back a little, watching as Peter took a bite of the cereal. "Let's keep it that way, shall we?"

"Yeah."

"I spoke with May when she was here. She's worried, so if you're up for it and can sound a little less miserable, give her a call later."

"All right."

He was quiet, then, giving Peter a chance to eat without being interrogated and was satisfied to see the entire bowl finished – along with the toast.

"More?"

"No."

The lap table vanished, and Strange leaned forward, intently.

"Let me ask you something…"

"Okay."

A book appeared in the doctor's hand.

"What did you just feel?"

"A tingle."

Strange gave the book to Peter and then it vanished.

"And then?"

"Same thing."

"Same intensity?"

"Yeah. Nothing much, but it's there."

"Only when it vanished, or appeared, though, right?"

"Right."

"What do you feel when the cloak is near you?"

As if in response to that question – but probably because the danger of being thrown up on had passed – the cloak transferred itself from Stephen back over to Peter, where it curled around his shoulders and neck, leaving plenty of fabric around the back of his head. It started caressing his cheek, crooning into his mind, satisfied to have the boy upright.

"Same tingle, but all the time. And sometimes I can feel emotions coming off of it."

"What do you feel right now?"

"It's smug, and calm."

Strange nodded. That was reasonable, he supposed.

"Do you remember back when you and I first started talking about the possibility of magic?"

"A little."

He wouldn't have been able to recite the conversation, of course.

"You mentioned it could have been some kind of transporter technology, and I asked you what you felt when I gave you a book I had summoned."

"Oh."

Obviously he didn't remember the exact words, but Stephen didn't need him to. _He_ knew what had been said.

"At the time, I asked you what you felt, and you told me that you hadn't felt anything. Can you think back and try to remember if you actually did feel something that you just didn't recognize? Or if you really didn't feel anything when it happened?"

It seemed like a conversation that had happened a million years ago, but Peter tried, not understanding why he was being asked to, but recognizing that it was important or Strange wouldn't be asking him to do it. He remembered having the conversation; one didn't forget the first time they saw real magic happening, after all. But he couldn't remember what he had felt – or hadn't felt. Finally, he had to shake his head.

"I'm not sure," he admitted. "I think if I had felt a tingle I would have told you so, because I really couldn't believe what you were showing me, and I was looking for a way to explain it."

"I agree," Strange told him. "You're far too analytical to allow something like that pass if you had seen – or felt – a way to prove it wrong. I just wanted to ask you to be sure."

"What are you asking for?" Peter asked, feeling a little pleased at the compliment and a lot confused by the conversation.

"It's a theory I'm working on," the doctor told him. "A possible solution to some of the problems we're facing with you and magic."

"The Infinity stones?"

Strange smiled and shook his head.

"No. They're too powerful to be stopped, short of a shield around them. We can do that with the Time stone – we already do, of course – and with obvious success since you'd never felt it until I opened the Eye of Agamotto. Vision can't shield the Mind stone short of putting a shield around his head of some sort, which wouldn't work, of course. This is more for the rest of it, the low grade fevers."

"What are you thinking?" Peter asked, curiously.

"I'm still working on it," Strange told him. "When I have it figured out completely I'll let you know. Don't get your hopes up, though, because it might not do anything, and even if it _did_ , we might not be able to use it."

"Why not?"

"Because Tony _isn't_ going to like it."

He didn't say any more about it. Instead, he reached down and pulled Peter's blanket back up over him. Once the fever had broken, they'd bundled Peter back into a long sleeved t-shirt, but it wasn't that thick and he didn't want to boy to catch a chill.

"Get some more sleep. I want you alert enough to talk to May tomorrow. She's not going to let you leave here on Sunday, just so you know."

"What?"

"She's _worried_ ," Strange reminded him. "I couldn't tell her what brought on the newest fever, but she _is_ aware that it happened, and she knows there are a lot more people here to take care of you if something happens than if you were home alone while she was at work. We'll shoot for next Sunday and see what happens."

"Okay."

He supposed he could understand that.

"I'll see you in the morning."

He didn't ask the cloak if it wanted to come with him, well aware of the answer he'd receive. If he were going back to the Sanctum, the cloak wouldn't hesitate to join him, because it was a part of the place and knew it. It also had decided to become Strange's protector, which he appreciated. Since he was close at hand in VIP quarters, though, it didn't have any qualms sleeping with Peter instead.

Strange just made sure he cracked Peter's bedroom door on the way out. The thing was more than capable of opening a door handle, but it was easier this way.

He shut off the lights and walked to his own rooms, deep in thought once more.


	127. Chapter 128

Since he managed a real meal, the others let Peter sleep the rest of the night, not waking him to feed him another shake. The day was well begun outside the boy's bedroom window when Tony Stark sat down on the edge of Peter's bed. He didn't need to touch the boy to see the obvious improvement. Even with the cloak curled up around him and a blanket pulled up to his waist, Peter's face had lost the dangerous flush brought on by the fever and he was sleeping soundly.

"Should I wake him up?" he asked, looking over his shoulder at Strange. "He looks pretty comfortable."

"He can always go back to sleep," the doctor replied. "I want him to eat."

Stark nodded, and reached over and brushed Peter's cheek, briefly, then shook his shoulder through the cloak.

"Peter…"

The boy sighed and opened his eyes, but the cloak reacted to his reluctance by draping itself over Peter's face, blocking him from the two men and making things dark.

"None of that," Strange said, amused but hiding it. "We need him awake."

The cloak moved just as Peter brought his hand up to move it, and he looked at Stark, then Strange and then back to Tony.

"Good morning," Tony told him.

"Hi."

"Hungry?"

" _Tired_."

"Tired enough that you'd rather have a shake than a real breakfast?"

"No."

He didn't care if he had a real breakfast, but he definitely didn't want another shake.

"Come on," Tony encouraged him. "We'll feed you and let you sleep until lunch time."

Peter forced himself upright, but it wasn't easy, and Stark ended up helping him just to avoid seeing him fail. As it was, the boy closed his eyes once he was propped upright against the pillows.

"Are you dizzy, Peter?" Strange asked, sitting on the bed next to Stark.

"No."

He opened his eyes to keep them from worrying, and saw that it wasn't really working. Both of them were watching him with concern, although Strange had the doctor's ability to detach himself a little more than Tony was able to. Both of them looked as tired as Peter felt, and he hoped someone would make them get some sleep, too.

"Oatmeal?" Strange asked. "Or something more exciting?"

"Oatmeal, please."

It wasn't boring, yet, and it had gone down well the last time, with very little effort on his part. The table returned with a bowl of oatmeal and two slices of toast this time. Without asking there were raisons and brown sugar.

The cloak immediately unwrapped itself from the boy and transferred to Strange's collar.

Stark smiled at that, because he'd watched Peter throw up on the thing, and it clearly did not want a repeat of that particular performance.

The boy started eating, awake enough now that hunger was taking precedence. Both watched him, pleased that he had an appetite.

"Call your aunt today," Tony told him as the last bite went down. "She's worried."

"I will."

"Do you need anything?" Strange asked.

Peter looked out the window. It was sunny and bright and he suddenly felt as if he had been in bed for months.

"Can I go outside?"

Both men were startled, and acted as if he'd asked to go on a thirty mile hike through snake infested poison ivy.

"I don't think so," Strange said.

"Are you nuts?" Stark asked at the exact same moment.

"I don't mean _do_ anything," Peter clarified. "I just want to sit outside and maybe get some fresh air."

"You need to sleep," Stark told him.

"I could sleep outside. In a _chair_."

There had been plenty of lounge chairs out in the field when they'd had the barbeque and Peter knew it.

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because you're sick."

"No, I'm not."

Stark scowled, and turned to Strange.

"A little help here?"

"It's not a terrible idea, Tony," Strange conceded. "He _has_ been inside far too much lately and a little fresh air would do him some good."

"You're as crazy as he is."

The doctor smiled.

"I'm his doctor, right?"

Peter's expression turned hopeful at the unexpected agreement from Dr. Strange, and Toy didn't miss it. It was a lot better than the tired, defeated expressions that he had been seeing on the boy for the last few days.

He wasn't quite ready to give in, though.

"It's cold out."

"No, it isn't."

"I'll have a blanket."

"And what if he needs something?"

"He has a watch that can call anyone if something comes up."

"The drills and PT will keep him awake."

"Not likely."

Besides, they'd be more interesting than watching TV or playing a video game. Strange was pretty sure that it wouldn't be long before Peter was asleep again, though, and he couldn't see any reason he couldn't do it outside. At least for a short time.

Peter was watching him, hopefully, as Strange struck down every objection he made. Even if he could have thought of more, he wasn't immune to the boy's expression, and finally he shrugged.

"Fine."

Peter was smart enough not to preen, but his smile made the concession worth it.

"Thanks."

"Where do you want him?" Tony asked, standing up. "I'll go set it up."

"Where I can see the jet."

"The jet's gone," Strange told him. He looked at Stark. "Somewhere on the edge of the field. In the sun."

"And if he sunburns?"

"We'll get him an umbrella."

Shaking his head, Stark left and Stephen smiled, looking at Peter.

"You realize he's probably hoping you'll fall asleep before he gets back, right?"

Peter hadn't considered that but it made sense. And might have happened.

"How's your research coming?"

"Slowly."

"Anything I can help with?"

"Not at the moment," Strange assured him. "But if something comes up, I won't hesitate to ask you."

"Okay."

He turned the discussion to other topics, well aware that Peter would be curious what he was working on to see if there was any way that he could assist – and there might have been, but not yet. Eventually Stark returned and told them everything was ready.

"Are you up for the walk?" Strange asked.

"Yeah."

Peter pushed the blanket off and stood up. And then promptly sat back down when his legs refused to hold his weight.

"Obviously not," Tony said, worry clouding his expression once more.

"He's been in bed for a while," Stephen reminded both of them. "An assist this time might not be a bad idea, though. Where are you putting him?"

"Same area as the barbeque."

Strange gave Peter a steadying hand, bringing him back to his feet, and a moment later they were outside, on the edge of the field. There was a chaise lounge with a warm comforter draped over it and a table next to it with a bowl of fruit, some drinks and a couple of granola bars on it. There was also a sun shading umbrella, with controls that could be reached by someone sitting in the chair, allowing it to be opened or closed and positioned however it might be needed.

With the doctor steadying him, Peter walked over and was settled into the chair, and then covered with another blanket before the Cloak of Levitation tucked itself around him as well, adding its warmth to the layers. Stark explained how the controls to the umbrella worked, and Strange looked around, deciding it was restful enough.

"I don't think it'll hurt you to be outside for a while, but if you get cold, or need anything make sure you let us know, all right?"

"I will."

"I could stay with him," Tony said. "Maybe work on my tan…"

"He'll call if he needs anything. Right, Peter?"

"Yeah."

"But-"

Stark's phone chirped at him, interrupting the debate before it could begin. He looked at it and then frowned.

"Everything okay?" Peter asked.

"Yes. Pepper says she needs some help." He looked at Strange. "You got him?"

"Of course."

"You're okay?" he asked Peter, still not willing to concede that this was the best idea, even the boy looked relaxed and almost happy.

"Yes."

"I'll check in with you in a while."

He left and Strange smirked.

"Don't hold your breath."

"Oh?"

"I happen to know Pepper has every intention of putting him to bed to catch up on some much needed sleep."

"Oh." Peter nodded. "Good."

Now they just needed someone to do the same to Strange.

"Are you going to be okay here?"

"Yeah."

"Call if you need me."

Peter nodded and Strange left as well, leaving the boy to watch the trees across the field and the occasional bird as it flew by. The cloak started humming in his mind, a contented sound that matched how he felt just then. It didn't caress or pet him, as if avoiding anything that would distract him enough to keep him awake.

Peter closed his eyes after only about fifteen minutes, and was soon asleep.


	128. Chapter 129

"You're getting _rained_ on. You know that, right?"

Peter opened his eyes and found Pepper crouched down next to the chair he'd been sleeping in. She was smiling, amused at how sleepy he looked when he woke up. He also saw that she was right. The sun had been replaced by clouds and while it wasn't _pouring_ , there were some fat raindrops falling around him.

Not _on_ him, though, because the Cloak of Levitation had shifted enough that it was shielding his face and chest from the rain, clearly waiting for someone to come wake its charge up and get him inside.

Pepper hit the control that opened the sun umbrella and now even less rain was landing on them, but he sat up a little.

"I didn't notice," he admitted.

"I had a feeling."

She knew he'd asked to go out and knew where to find him. Tony had told her when he'd joined her, right before she'd sent him to bed, ignoring his protests that he wasn't tired. She'd stayed with him until he'd drifted off, and gone back to her work. With him asleep and hopefully Stephen asleep as well, when Friday had mentioned the change in the weather, Pepper had decided that she should probably go check on the boy, just to make sure he had enough sense to get up and go inside rather than float away.

She was glad she had. He'd been sound asleep, still, completely unaware of the rain.

"Come on," Pepper told him. "I'll walk you to your rooms."

She offered him a helping hand getting to his feet and he accepted because he really needed it. Pepper piled the blankets on the table where the umbrella would keep it all dry and then wrapped an arm companionably around Peter's waist, steering him toward the door, with the cloak still hovering over him, although now it was keeping the rain off _her_ , as well.

"How are the ribs?" she asked as they went through the door, and the cloak shook itself out, water droplets flying everywhere.

"They're fine. Only an occasional twinge every now and then."

"Good. And no headaches?"

"No. I'm good. Really."

"And Stephen agrees?"

"I think so. He let me go outside, anyway."

"Good point."

The walk to Peter's quarters was slow, and he was leaning on her more than a little by the time they arrived, but the company was good. She genuinely liked the boy – although the cloak hovering protectively at his side while they walked took a little getting used to.

"Where's Mr. Stark?"

Pepper smiled, tightening her hold on him a little.

"I put him to bed. He wasn't very happy, but he's been short on sleep lately. So if you need anything, make sure you call me, okay?"

"He looked tired," Peter agreed. " _Dr. Strange_ does, too. Maybe he's asleep, though."

"He probably has more sense than Tony," Pepper assumed. "He's a doctor, after all. They have to learn to sleep when they can when going through medical school."

"I hope so."

They had reached his door.

"You got it from here?"

"Yes, thank you."

He gave her an impulsive hug that melted her heart, and she hugged him close for a moment, _so_ tempted to keep him.

"Remember, call me if you need anything and not Tony's line, okay?"

"Okay."

"I'll talk to you later."

He and the cloak went into his quarters, and Pepper went looking for Natasha.

OOOOOOOO

A knock on the door to his quarters startled Strange so much he almost dropped the book he was reading. Not because he was high strung or anything like that, but because usually when he studied he was in the library at the Sanctum and no one ever knocked on the door. Wong would just walk in.

Feeling a little foolish that his heart was racing over something so ridiculous, he was already smiling when he opened the door and found Natasha standing there.

"Natasha. Hi."

"Busy?"

"Of course not."

"It's lunchtime," she told him. "Everyone is working, and Peter and Tony are sleeping, so I thought I'd see if you were interested in eating with me."

"Of course." An invitation not to be refused, after all. "What did you have in mind?"

"The lounge is noisy and the commissary is packed. Would you mind eating here?"

"Not at all."

He moved aside and allowed her to enter the living room area and Natasha walked around the room, noticing that the only thing that even announced his presence was a small stack of books. Of course the VIP rooms were designed to be temporary, so that wasn't a big surprise.

She picked up one of the books, but couldn't read anything when she opened it. It was written in runes or something.

"Tell me you speak this?" she said, holding it out to him.

He smiled.

"It's not a spoken language. I can _read_ it, though."

"Impressive."

"I'm not the scholar Wong is, but I always have loved books."

"Me, too."

"What do you want for lunch?" he asked, a couple of place settings appearing on the coffee table, including a pot of coffee and cups.

"Whatever's easy," she said as she sat down. "Chef Salad?"

"Sounds good."

A moment later there were two plates on the table as well, salads artfully created with assorted dressings, and breadsticks instead of croutons.

"What are you working on?" she asked, curiously, as they started eating.

"Researching a possible fix for Peter's fevers."

"They're caused by magic?" She asked, just to make sure she understood the problem.

"Yes."

"Why don't _you_ get them?"

"Because I don't feel magic the way Peter does," he explained. "He feels it as a vibration, he says. I never have."

"How do you feel it?" she asked.

"I don't. It's extremely rare to feel it. It's there, and can be utilized, of course, but to me – and to Wong – it's not a vibration. It's more like a power. Or a force. Something to pull from the world and make into whatever it is you need it be before returning it where it came from. I'm afraid I'm not explaining it very well, sorry."

He was never a good teacher. Good at lectures, yes, and showing people what they were doing wrong, of course. But teaching was a skill that required a lot more patience than he possessed.

"Don't worry." They were both quiet for a while, enjoying the meal and the company, but Natasha wasn't finished with her questions, and she had him to herself – which was her perfect opportunity to ask them. "So are you trying to do away with the fevers? Or trying to stop him from feeling magic?"

"The latter would end the former."

"Would it have any effect on the way he senses everything else?"

He frowned.

"It _could_ ," Strange conceded, taking a sip of his coffee. "That's part of what makes it such a puzzle to solve. Another thing is that I don't want him _not_ to feel magic. It's an amazing ability, and it would take away a part of him. I just want to figure out how to hold the fevers back."

"Sounds like a fine line to walk."

"It is."

"You look tired."

He shook his head.

"I'm fine."

"Stretching yourself too thin…"

"Not really. If anything, you're the one that should be tired; doing your regular duties during the day and keeping Peter going the last three nights. That's amazing."

"He needs me, right now."

Strange smiled at that, both because it was true, and because she accepted it so easily. It gave him insight to her character, which he already knew was amazing – and incredibly complex.

"He's lucky to have you."

"You saved his life," she reminded him.

"Anyone could have figured it out."

"I doubt that." She shrugged. "Anyway… you need to take a break, and get some sleep. Come at the puzzle fresh."

"I'm okay. Really."

She raised an eyebrow at him, which made him smile as he took another sip of his coffee, but she didn't argue with him. She didn't need to – although he didn't know it, of course. They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes and then he leaned back into the leather of the sofa, shifting to get more comfortable and suddenly found that he couldn't keep his eyes open.

Natasha took the cup from him before he spilled what little was left, and set it on the coffee table, just in time for him to slump toward her. She caught him, his head resting on her shoulder and holding him against her as gently as she might have held Peter. She counted very slowly to fifty. Only then did she move, pulling him down onto the sofa into a more comfortable position.

The spy/assassin went into his bedroom and pulled a blanket and pillow off his bed, brought them out and covered him, then tucked the pillow under his head and pressed a tender kiss against his temple.

"I'll see you in the morning, Stephen," she whispered before she left him to his extended nap.

She'd check on him a couple times before that, of course, just to make sure he didn't have any unusual reaction to the sedative she'd slipped into his coffee, but she knew he wasn't going to wake up until the next day. And she was fine with that.

It was a positive application to a very deadly skillset. As far as she was concerned, there weren't enough of them.


	129. Chapter 130

They didn't feed Peter any lunch. By the time Romanoff and Pepper consulted each other and realized that Pepper had sent him back to bed without eating anything, it almost seemed like it would be unfair to wake the boy again to make him eat. Neither was worried. They'd just make sure that he had a big dinner to compensate for it, and they had both cleared their schedules to make sure he wouldn't lack for company, even with Stark and Strange both asleep.

Natasha checked on Strange once more before they met in the commissary to make a dinner tray for three. He was still asleep, and looked far more peaceful than he had any time other than when playing with the puppies. She had simply double checked that his blanket wouldn't slip off and had closed the door behind her.

Now they were debating what to feed Peter. They both knew what he liked, but were wondering if he would be ready to switch things up, or if a burger would be something he'd even want to tackle. It really depended on how tired he was, and they wouldn't know that until after their decision had been made.

Finally they decided on spaghetti with meatballs, bread and side salad. With slices of cake, and fruit for dessert. They loaded it all into serving bowls and platters, and then onto a cart, let Steve Rogers know where they would be and headed back to Peter's rooms.

Peter had ended up back in his bed, laying on his side with a couple of pillows propping him up slightly and the cloak cuddled against his belly and chest caressing his cheek as he slept. The thing noticed them immediately when they opened the bedroom door, but it was used to both of them and didn't stop what it was doing. It already knew they weren't a danger to the boy.

"It certainly does seem to like him, doesn't it?" Pepper asked, wondering if the thing had been cuddling him the entire time he'd been asleep, and if that made Peter sleep better, or if it was just being self-indulgent.

"Definitely."

Natasha walked over and sat on the edge of the bed, reached over the cloak to touch the same cheek it stroking, tapping lightly to wake the boy.

"Peter."

He opened his eyes almost immediately, and she smiled at the tousled, sleepy look he gave her.

"Hi."

"Are you ready for some dinner?"

He didn't raise his head from the pillow, but she saw him look over and see Pepper in the room as well, and she knew there was no way he could miss the smell of the Italian food they brought. He nodded, and sat up in the bed, rubbing his face, sleepily.

"Yes."

Natasha sat back a little, making room for Pepper, who came over as well.

"Tony and Stephen are both still asleep," she told him as they used positioned the lap table over his legs and started serving up their dinner onto three plates. "So you're stuck with our company tonight."

He was just sleepy enough to not be tactful.

"You guys smell better, anyway."

That made both of the women laugh, and Natasha moved to the other side of him, while Pepper took the nearside. The cloak immediately shifted away from anywhere that it might get thrown up on – _it_ wasn't ready to trust Peter's stomach nearly as much as Pepper and Natasha were – and they discussed what he wanted to do that evening to keep themselves occupied.

Peter was still bone wrenching tired. Not as exhausted as he had been; he never would have made it from the outside to his rooms if he had been, but still tired enough that he didn't feel like moving any more than he needed to. He knew that neither of them would force him to do anything active – unless Dr. Strange told them to – and so he asked if they would be willing to watch movies. He told them that he'd even consent to chick flicks if that was what it would take.

It wasn't, but they both agreed, figuring that a quiet night of movie watching would be a good way to end what had been a very quiet day.

They watched as he ate his dinner, sweet-talked him into seconds of everything, including cake, and then settled in with him on the bed as Pepper picked up the remote and they started looking for a movie. They didn't require _chick flicks_ , but she had no intention of watching blood and gore all night, either. She was thinking that eventually a movie would put him sleep, and that wasn't going to happen if body parts were flying all over the screen.

The cloak waited until they had chosen their movie, Natasha had turned off the lights and rejoined them on the bed, and only then did it come back and lower itself onto Peter, deliberately using the remaining fabric to cover the two women as well since they were laying close enough to the boy that it could cover them all.

"Thank you," Natasha told it, surprised, shifting the pillow she was leaning on a little to make sure it wasn't blocking Peter's view.

Peter felt the cloak hum cheerfully into his head, giving off a self-satisfied note of smugness and something else he couldn't quite identify. He smiled at that, and wondered if the cloak was developing a crush on Natasha and Pepper as well. Or maybe they smelled better to _it_ , too.

He settled in to watch the movie, not at all used to the sensation of being cuddled from both sides by pretty women, but enjoying the contact and appreciating their willingness to spend time with him. Filled with a heavy dinner, warm and well aware that he was very much loved and wanted, he fell asleep long before Romy and Michele made it to their high school reunion.

Natasha was tired, too. Like Strange had mentioned, she had been spending a lot of time between her normal schedule and taking care of Peter and that was telling on her. She was sensible enough to know it, though, and when started falling asleep she simply allowed herself to do just that. Anyone who needed her knew where to find her, and there was nothing pressing she needed to be doing beyond what she was doing just then. She didn't last much longer than Peter had.

Pepper stayed awake long enough to watch the other two fall asleep. She debated whether to get up or not and go find her own bed – and someone a little older (and hairier) to cuddle with – but she was warm and comfortable, too, and like Natasha she knew that anyone who needed her would know where to find her. She also didn't want to run the risk of waking the other two by leaving.

She picked up the remote and set up the program to run continuous movies so they wouldn't be woken when the movie ended by an annoying blue screen. She figured that she'd at least get a chance to watch some of the movies that she hadn't seen in a long time, but surprised herself by falling asleep long before the end of the first one.

OOOOOOOOO

When Tony Stark woke he was surprised by just how good he felt. Not that he would admit it to Pepper, of course, but the long nap had definitely been just the thing he'd needed. He didn't see her in their rooms, but he wasn't concerned. She was somewhere and he'd find her when he was more awake.

He took a long shower and then dressed casually in deference to the time and then went looking for something to eat and someone to eat it with.

"Find Pepper."

" _Pepper is in Peter Parker's quarters."_

That was easy enough. Food and company in the same place. Perfect. And this way he didn't need to locate Peter.

He debated stopping to get some food to bring with him, but figured he'd wait and see what they were doing and if he even needed to. Instead he headed for Peter's quarters, assuming they'd be playing cards, or chess, or even video games – although he knew that wasn't really Pepper's thing. Maybe even a movie.

"You have _got_ to be kidding me…"

He hadn't spoken loudly, although he was pretty sure he could have yelled it and no one in Peter's room would have heard him. Peter was asleep, which did not surprise him. Especially when he saw the cart with the remains of what was obviously a big dinner filled with carbs. Tony had already bragged to Pepper that he'd figured out the easiest way to put the boy into a food-induced coma, and she had clearly taken that lesson to heart.

Pepper was on one side of the boy, her arm draped over him and her face buried against his shoulder. She was just as clearly asleep, and didn't look to be moving any time soon. On the other side Romanoff was sleeping with her head against Peter's other shoulder. The cloak was covering all of them, somewhat, and he was a little surprised to see that it was caressing Natasha's cheek – although he decided it probably couldn't reach Peter's the way it was positioned, so maybe she was the next best thing.

"First my bed, and now my _girl_ …" he murmured softly, more amused than anything – although he did find the scene slightly heartwarming, even though he wouldn't even admit that to himself.

He wondered where Stephen was and why he wasn't in the puppy pile as well and decided that he'd go look for him, next. Before he left, he went silently to the other side of the bed and used a normal blanket to cover Natasha warmly, and then did the same on Pepper's side. Peter was fine with the cloak and the two women to ward off any chill, and Stark had to restrain himself from checking the boy's forehead for any sign of fever. He didn't look flushed.

Taking the cart with him, Stark left them to their sleep and decided to go find something to eat and someone to eat it with.


	130. Chapter 131

It was almost 3 am when Tony felt Pepper join him in their bed. He'd been sleeping, but not so soundly that the motion of someone sliding into bed beside him and wrapping her arms around him wasn't enough to wake him. He rolled over, welcoming her with a kiss that in the dark landed on her eyebrow.

" _Finally_. I thought I had lost you to a younger guy."

She smiled in the dark and he felt her snuggle against him, her cheek resting against his chest.

"I was tempted. He's _very_ sweet, you know…"

"He's too young for you."

"He's not as stubborn."

"So you _think_. He can be."

"He's cute."

"You don't have a chance. His heart belongs to a blanket. You _know_ that, right?"

"Alas."

"Is he still asleep?"

"Yes. Or he was when I left."

"Natasha?"

"She was gone when I woke up."

"Okay."

He heard Pepper chuckle in the dark.

"She _might_ have gone to check on Stephen."

He frowned, even though she couldn't see it, and turned a little, almost sitting up.

"What's wrong with Stephen?"

Tony had gone looking for Strange, going so far as having Friday locate him when he didn't find him in the lounge. When he hadn't answered the door to his quarters, he'd asked for vitals – just to be on the safe side – and had been told they were fine.

"Nothing. Natasha said he wasn't sleeping, so she spiked his coffee."

"She _drugged_ him?"

"Yes."

"Imagine _that_ …"

She nudged his side, amused at the smugness in his voice.

"I thought you'd appreciate that."

"Fair is fair."

"Mmm-hmm…"

She sounded like she was already falling asleep again.

"Peter ate well?"

"He's fine. Go back to sleep."

"Okay."

OOOOOOOOOOOO

The smell of coffee woke Strange. He sat up, uncertain as to why he was fully dressed and sleeping on the couch. His head was aching just a little and he rubbed his face, confused, trying to remember exactly when he'd fallen asleep. All he could remember was having lunch with Natasha and talking about being tired. Then he noticed the tray on his coffee table. It held a covered plate, a pot of coffee, a banana and a glass of orange juice along with a packet of Tylenol.

And a note.

 _Come find me when you're feeling up to it – Natasha_

He frowned, and then scowled when he realized what had to have happened.

"That _minx_."

He wasn't sure whether to be annoyed or amused, but at the moment his head was aching, and that was annoying. He had to be impressed, though, because he'd have sworn she hadn't been anywhere near his coffee at any time, and that was the only way she could have drugged him.

He opened the pills and swallowed them with the help of the orange juice and lifted the cover off the plate. There was a platter of French toast, scrambled eggs and bacon. He changed the bacon into sausage and summoned some butter and syrup for the French toast, but couldn't complain about her choices. He was definitely hungry enough to eat it all.

OOOOOOOO

The creature wasn't something he recognized, and he decided as he watched it that it was speaking to the other one that was standing beside it. Not that he understood what it was _saying_ , because it definitely wasn't English, but he understood that it was _communicating_ , and they were both standing in front of a very large group of even more of them.

They were all pointing up toward a very bright light in the sky that certainly had them frightened. It looked like a craft of some kind, coming through the atmosphere and roiling the clouds it was breaking through as it grew larger, coming ever closer. It looked like something out of a movie, and Peter wondered for a moment if that was the reference and he just didn't remember it. He didn't remember _every_ movie and _every_ alien he saw in them, after all.

A hand brushed against his forehead, the touch all it took to pull him out of the odd dream.

"Peter?"

He opened his eyes, wondering what had happened next. And saw Tony Stark sitting on the edge of his bed, watching him intently.

"Hey…"

"Good morning." Stark moved just a little, and he saw that Natasha was standing in the room as well. Both of them were clearly ready to start their day, and from the bright sunlight coming through his window, it was probably going to be a nice one. "How are you feeling?"

"Okay."

He did, too. A little tired, but aside from that, not too bad. No pain, and he was warm. The humming in his head and the cheerful presence of the cloak told him without looking that it was probably responsible for the warmth, anyway.

"Ready for some breakfast?"

"Yeah. Here?"

He didn't smell any food.

"Yes," Tony told him. "We'll try for lunch out of bed, though, okay? If you're up for it and Stephen allows it."

Which he probably would since he let him go outside the day before, after all.

"Okay."

"It's French toast," Natasha told him, helpfully.

"Sounds good."

Stark looked over his shoulder.

"I'll go get it. You keep him awake."

She smiled and nodded, taking the place Tony vacated when he stood up. He left, and she leaned over to run her hand along his forehead, as well.

"You don't feel too fevered."

"No, I feel okay," he said. "If I'm hot at all, it's probably the cloak hanging out with me."

"Does it hurt?" she asked, curiously

"The cloak?"

"Feeling the _magic_."

He shook his head, sitting up a little more.

"No. Depending on what it is, obviously. The things that Doctor Strange does mostly just tingle. It's more like having goose bumps, kind of."

As if the discussion had actually summoned him, there was a slight knock on Peter's bedroom door, and Strange walked in.

"Am I interrupting anything?" he asked, walking over to the bed.

Natasha shook her head, watching him with a slightly amused expression that Peter didn't understand.

"Tony went to get them some breakfast."

"Not you?"

"I ate earlier." She moved enough to give him room so he could check on Peter, but she was watching him for any adverse reaction. "How do you feel?"

He scowled, just for a moment, and then shrugged.

"I'm _fine_. Just a slight headache."

He ran his hand along Peter's cheek.

"Fever's still gone."

"Yeah, I feel okay."

"Good. You can probably get up later for a little while."

"Thanks."

The doctor smiled.

"Do you mind if I borrow Natasha for a minute?"

"No."

She got up, and winked at Peter.

"Don't fall asleep, okay?"

"Okay."

Strange closed the bedroom door behind her, and Natasha smiled at him.

"How was the nap?"

"You _drugged_ me."

"What? Why would I do that?"

"That's not a denial, Natasha."

"Because I'm not _denying_ it, Stephen," she pointed out. "You were tired, and driving yourself without sleep. For someone who keeps lecturing the rest of us to get as much rest as possible, you were looking pretty ragged."

"I was-"

" _Exhausted_. Admit it."

He was too stubborn to do that. They both knew it. But he was also far too honest to deny it. Finally he sighed.

"You didn't have to _drug_ me."

She walked a little ways from the door, and leaned against the back of the sofa.

"My other option was to seduce you and wear you out with hours of wild, passionate sex."

Strange frowned, hesitating, because it was impossible to tell if she was serious or not. He finally decided that she was.

"Well why didn't you use _that_ option?"

"Drugging you was less complicated."

He shook his head, his smile completely amused, now, and any resentment he might have felt gone.

"You're so complex."

"Occupational hazard."

"Don't do it again, okay? Just tell me to get some sleep."

"And you will?"

"Yes."


	131. Chapter 132

When he was done eating and Stark suggested that he take a nap, Peter asked if he could go back outside. Tony hesitated, but Strange agreed almost immediately. Of course, neither of them knew he'd gotten _rained_ on the day before, and Peter didn't have any intention of telling them.

"Do you want company?" Natasha offered.

"I'm just going to be sleeping."

He figured she had better things to do than watch him, and he was well aware that he'd monopolized her the day before and didn't want her getting tired of his company.

Stephen and Stark got him out of bed, and the doctor summoned his phone in from the coffee table and handed it to him, reminding him to call his aunt and suggested he do it before going to sleep. Then he transferred them all over to the same lounger that Peter had slept in the previous day.

"Are you sure you want to be out here?" Tony asked once he'd been bundled onto one comforter and under another, with the Cloak of Levitation now draped over him and cuddling under his chin, crooning cheerfully into his mind. "There's nothing to watch today."

"I'm okay. Really."

"Get some sleep," Strange told him, uncharacteristically brushing a gentle hand along the boy's cheek as he did so.

Natasha made sure the bowl of snacks was close at hand, just in case.

"I'm in the facility all day. Okay?"

Peter nodded.

"Thanks."

The three adults left him where he was, walking back inside, but they didn't separate when they returned to the building. Instead Tony and Natasha both followed Stephen, who walked down a corridor and then up both flights of stairs and to a window that overlooked the field, and the boy who was sitting next to it.

He leaned against the inlay of the window, watching as Peter silently (to them) made a call on his phone and then lay staring out at the trees, obviously not ready to sleep just yet, despite his instructions to do so.

"What's going on?" Tony asked, watching the same scene, but his real attention on Strange.

"You're worried about him," Natasha hazarded.

"You tell me," the doctor said, not taking his eyes off the boy. "You two know him better."

"He finished his breakfast," Stark pointed out. "And no fever."

"He's _healthy_ , Tony. We just need to get him back on his feet and get some weight on him."

What little they'd managed to pack on to him had been lost after three days of nothing but protein shakes and fevers, but Strange wasn't worried about that. They could get the weight back.

"He was a little quiet…" Natasha said.

Strange nodded.

" _Subdued_ is the word I'd have used, but I wasn't sure if it was just me, or if he really was."

"I noticed it," Natasha said. "He was last night, too, but I assumed it was the overload of estrogen in the room with him with no other males to buffer him."

Stephen had no idea what they'd done the night before, but once again he was impressed by the way Natasha never seemed to miss anything.

"So what is it?" Tony asked.

"I don't know that it's _anything_ ," Stephen admitted. "He could still be getting over how tired he is, but I think this last fever took more out of him than he knows."

"You said he's healthy."

"Or maybe it's not the fever but the contact with the Mind stone," Natasha said before Strange could reply. "Who knows what that thing shoved into his mind when it was showing him the beginning of the world."

"There's no way to know," Stephen admitted. "We could ask, but I doubt _he_ even knows right now."

"So he's _depressed_?" Stark asked, frowning.

"I didn't say that, and I don't know that he is. I want to keep an eye on him, though. Not just on his health – which is _my_ job, of course – but how he acts, and interacts with those he's closest to. Which will be _your_ jobs."

"Should I bring May up for a visit?"

"Of course. But I meant with those he's closest to _here_."

Which, of course, were Tony and Natasha.

"It's _Sunday_ ," Tony pointed out, even though they all knew it – and Peter probably hadn't. "It's early enough I could call her and send Happy to get her. She could come up for a couple of hours, at least."

"I don't imagine she'd say no," Natasha agreed. "We could surprise him."

Strange nodded.

"Just _her_ , though. Ned is a bit animated, and I don't want Peter worn out trying too much just yet."

"I'll set it up," Tony said, already reaching for his phone. "And an activity of some sort to take his mind off things."

"Nothing too active," Stephen cautioned, well aware that Stark was very good at making something that could be a simple surprise from a relative into a full blown festival. "Simple and quiet."

"Of course."

"And no _puppies_."

Even they were more enthusiastic than Strange wanted Peter dealing with.

"Right."

Tony walked away, already dialing May's number, but Stephen continued leaning against the window, still watching. From this distance it was hard to see if Peter had closed his eyes, but the cloak had started caressing his cheek so Strange imagined it was only a matter of time before the thing lulled him to sleep. Especially after having just eaten.

Natasha leaned against him, watching the boy as well, and Strange absently put his arm around her.

"What can I do?" she asked.

"Honestly I could be wrong about the whole thing," he admitted.

"But you don't think so."

"I rarely think I'm wrong," he told her with a slight smile, acknowledging his own ego. "We'll let him rest this morning, feed him a big lunch and see what Tony comes up with for this evening. You can do what you have been doing. Be there for him if he needs you, and hang back a bit when he doesn't."

"Okay."

"And keep a tight rein on _Tony_. The barbeque was a great idea and worked exactly how he intended it to, but he has a tendency to take something and run with it until it's blown to proportions that would overwhelm P.T. Barnum, let alone one sick kid."

She grinned at that, knowing it was true.

"I'll turn Pepper loose on him."

"Good idea."

"What are you going to do?" she asked. "More research?"

He shook his head.

"I've been told I'm running myself ragged," he told her. "I think I'll take a day and just relax. Maybe I'll get a chair next to Peter and watch the trees for a while."

Natasha reached up and pulled his head down, kissing him before she moved out of his embrace.

"I knew you were a smart guy. I'm going to go find Tony. I'll see you later."

He nodded, and watched her walk away, but then turned back to the window.


	132. Chapter 133

The cloak woke Peter from a fitful nap. He felt it tapping on his cheek, as if it was aware that he was having weird dreams, and he came awake suddenly, with a start that made him sit up before he even realized he was doing it.

The dream vanished, if it even _had_ been a dream. He wasn't really sure, but it definitely left him unsettled enough that he looked around, just to make sure there weren't any trees flying at him. It hadn't really been a nightmare – it wasn't _scary_ – but he was a little more sensitive to such things now than he had been before Loki.

The day was still as sunny and bright as it had been when he'd finally fallen asleep, but he wasn't alone like he had been. There was another lounge chair on the other side of the little table from his and Doctor Strange was asleep in it, also bundled warmly in a blanket against the gentle breeze that was ruffling the leaves in the trees on the other side of the field.

"Is he okay?" Peter asked the cloak, softly, laying back down and allowing the pillow behind him to take his head.

The thing gave an affirmative response, still humming in his mind. It couldn't tell him _why_ the doctor had decided to spend the day napping outside with him, but Peter didn't really need to know. He rolled a little to his side, shifting to get more comfortable, and closed his eyes again, allowing the cloak to lull him back to sleep.

OOOOOOOO

" _What are you looking at?"_

Natasha jumped at the voice that whispered in her ear, and turned to look at Steve, who was grinning and looking pretty impressed with himself. As he _should_ be. He knew it was usually impossible to sneak up on her and he not only had done just that, but then he'd also _startled_ her – which was equally rare.

She hit his shoulder, just as amused.

"Watching Peter sleep."

"Why?"

"I'm debating waking him up for lunch, or letting him sleep a little longer – and _then_ waking him up for lunch."

Steve looked out the window, and shrugged.

"What does Strange say?"

"Who do you think is in the _other_ chair?"

Rogers smiled.

"Let him sleep. He's had a rough few days."

She hesitated and then nodded her agreement.

"What are _you_ doing?"

"I'm going to go help Tony set up tonight's entertainment."

"You're not using a screen though, right?"

"We don't have one that big. Bruce suggested a form of sailcloth that they use for banners behind airplanes, so that's what we got. Now we just need to put it up."

"Clever."

"Yeah. Unless you're the one climbing the rigging."

"Are you?"

"Probably."

OOOOOOOOO

"You got it?"

"Yeah."

"You _sure_?"

"I said I did, didn't I?"

Peter opened his eyes, sleepily, looking around. He wasn't the only one just waking up, because Doctor Strange was sitting up in the chair beside him, looking toward the sound of men shouting to each other.

"What in the world…?"

Tony was in his Ironman suit, hovering at the other end of the field somewhere around twenty feet off the grass. He was also holding some kind of white cloth that he was attaching to a tall support that was being held by a small group of men, while it was being secured to the ground underneath Tony. It looked like they'd already set one up about thirty feet away, because the other end of the cloth was already attached to it.

Tony was obviously waiting for that part to be secured before releasing the section that he was holding.

"What are they _doing_?" Peter asked.

"I have no idea. We probably don't even _want_ to know."

As they watched, the support was secured, and Tony released the part he was holding, waiting to see if it would stay. Which it did.

"That's Steve," Peter said, realizing that he had been the one who was doing the actual securing.

"Yeah." Strange turned from the workers to look at his watch, and then at Peter. "How do you feel?"

"Okay."

"Fevered?"

"No. Just a little tired."

"Are you ready for lunch?"

He really wasn't, but he nodded, knowing that it would be easier to just eat.

"Okay."

They both got up, folded the blankets they'd been using and left them on the chairs, then walked together toward the door, with the cloak floating cheerfully between them. Despite Peter's assurance, Strange _did_ reach over and run a hand along his forehead. He was warm, but not fevered.

"Shall we go see what they have in the lounge?"

"Sure."

OOOOOOOOOOO

When the screen was assembled, Tony soared over to the chairs rather than walk, mainly because he loved to make an entrance. He'd checked on Peter before he and Steve had started their project, and both he and Stephen had been sleeping soundly enough that the only thing that had acknowledged him was the cloak, which had been tucked against Peter's chest.

Flying in was wasted, though, since both of them were now gone – as was the cloak. The blankets had been folded, so he assumed they'd woken up – or _been_ woken by someone – and they'd gone to get some lunch. Which was a great idea.

He deactivated the suit and headed for the lounge.

OOOOOOOO

He found Peter and Stephen at one of the corner tables. The two were eating sandwiches and soup, and when Tony walked up he saw that they were playing Operation.

"Who's winning?" he asked, stealing a couple of crackers from Peter's plate and watching as Strange tried to pull out the thighbone of his patient, his face a study in concentration. And was immediately buzzed.

"Damn it."

"He is," Peter said, taking the operation tool that Strange handed him, and going for the man's breadbasket. He, too, was buzzed.

"Are you _cheating_?"

"I'm a skilled _brain surgeon_ ," Strange reminded him, taking the tool back from the boy and trying the thigh again. "It will be a sad day when a fifteen year old shows me up at this game."

"But _Peter_ has the steady hands of youth."

"What were you building out there?" Stephen asked, curiously, changing the subject as he successfully removed the game piece.

"It's a secret.

"You can tell us."

"If I tell _you_ then I have to tell _everyone_."

"No one else _cares_."

Peter made his play, and then took a bite of his sandwich.

"Want to play something, Tony?" Strange asked, looking over at him. "We're not married to this."

Stark looked at Peter, who nodded. He didn't care if they switched to something else.

"Go ahead and finish," he decided. "I'll get something to eat, first."

Besides, it'd been a while since he'd played Operation, and he was probably a better surgeon than Strange was. He'd built the _Ironman_ suit, after all. That had to count for something.


	133. Chapter 134

"Should I wake him?"

"Of course."

"He looks so _tired_."

"He'd be upset if you didn't."

Peter felt someone sit next to him and then a hand brush carefully against his cheek. He also felt a surge of irritation that he didn't understand until he woke up just a little more and realized it wasn't coming from _him_. The cheerful humming that he normally felt in his mind was grumpy and annoyed.

Surprised, he opened his eyes and found May leaning over him, watching him as she ran her fingers along his cheek. He caught her hand with his, feeling a surge of cheer that she couldn't miss, and it made her smile.

"May…"

"Hi, sweetheart."

He sat up, looking around. Strange and Stark were behind her, near his bedroom door. Both men looked pleased, and even a bit smug. The fading light outside his window told him that he'd napped a little longer than he'd planned, but he wasn't surprised. Not really. Another surge of irritation drew his attention and he realized May was sitting on the Cloak of Levitation, which had remembered it needed to pretend to be still, but she was sitting on it, and being a yoga mat had _not_ been part of the deal.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, pulling the cloak out from under her, and draping it over his leg, stroking it with one hand and silently thanking it for being so patient. The grumbling ceased immediately, replaced by grudging happiness.

"Tony invited me up for movie night. How could I resist?"

She leaned over and hugged him, and he put his arms around her, resting his cheek on her shoulder for a long moment before pulling away and looking at Stark.

"Movie night?"

He gave the boy an innocent look.

"I didn't tell you?"

That made Strange smile.

"No."

"Hmmm, thought I did. Well, you two say your hellos and come to the lounge for dinner. Dress warmly, though. Since the weather has decided to cooperate, we're going to be outside for movie in the park night."

They left, and May leaned over and kissed his cheek, then pressed her cheek against his for another long moment.

"You look so tired."

"I _feel_ better," he assured her. "No headaches and no pain."

"That's what Stephen said."

"He's right." Peter hugged her again. "Don't worry, okay? I'm doing better."

"It's my job to worry," she reminded him, with a gentle smile to soften the reprimand. "But I will try to keep it to a lower level. Get dressed, okay? I'll wait for you out in the living room."

She stood up and left, closing the door behind her, and the cloak instantly shot up and around him, stroking his cheek as if making sure she hadn't smudged him or anything with her kisses and hugs.

Peter absently stroked it, bemused at what he was doing, even while he was doing it.

"Thanks," he told the relic. "I owe you one."

It didn't reply with anything more than another surge of cheerfulness and a good natured grumbling when he got up and left it on the bed so he could change into warmer clothes.

OOOOOOOOOO

"Good idea, Tony," Strange said as the two walked out of Peter's quarters and headed down the corridor.

"Yeah." He wasn't even too smug about it. At least, not insufferably so. "He was definitely surprised."

"Yes."

"So we feed him a big meal, watch a movie outside – which he will probably sleep through – and drinks afterward until May has to leave. It's a fairly low key night, and hopefully one that will cheer him up a little."

He'd been watching Peter carefully that afternoon after he'd joined the boy and Stephen in the lounge, and he'd understood immediately what Natasha and Strange had noticed. Peter had participated in the Operation game – and then had gone on to show both men that he really was pretty good at Scrabble – but he had been quiet. Subdued, or introverted, or even a little downcast, whatever one wanted to call it.

He wasn't normally jumping around with cheerfulness, and Tony knew that he had always been serious – having the secret he had would turn _anyone_ serious – but he was definitely lacking the enthusiasm that Tony had always enjoyed seeing in him.

"It'll be a good start," Strange agreed.

When they reached the lounge Natasha and Pepper had had Clint and Steve pull a couple of the larger tables together in one of the corners, clearly saving them spaces. The place was a little busier than normal for Sunday night, filled with people who were dressed casually, mostly sweats, or jeans and sweatshirts, since they were all planning on participating in movie in the park night.

Pepper was wearing jeans and a hooded sweatshirt, similar to what she'd worn when they'd gone puppy loving, and Natasha was dressed similarly, although she'd opted for baggy sweats to go with her sweatshirt. Steve, Clint and Bruce were all in jeans, Bruce had a light jacket, the other two in sweatshirts, also. Stephen and Tony were both in suits, but they'd change before the movie.

"Well?" Pepper asked as Tony sat beside her and Strange took the seat on the other side of him, across from Natasha, who smiled a greeting.

"He was properly surprised," he reported, still looking smug, which amused her.

"And the cloak?" Natasha asked.

"Behaved itself perfectly."

"Peter was going to get dressed, then they'll be down," Strange told them.

"We can probably order, then," Pepper said, standing up and going to the bar. Stark got up and joined her.

"This isn't going to be too much for him?" Steve asked Strange after they'd made sure the doctor had a drink in front of him.

Stephen shook his head, appreciating the fact that Rogers automatically took on a leadership role that caused him to ask questions like that without doing the hovering that made him seem overprotective of those he felt responsible for.

"He should be fine. If it's too much, he'll let us know by falling asleep, and someone will end up carrying him to bed."

"It won't be the first time," Natasha pointed out. Then she smiled, because May and Peter appeared at the entrance and headed their way when they spotted him. Both were in sweatshirts, and the cloak was hanging limply over Peter's far shoulder where May couldn't touch it.

They reached the table at the same time Pepper and Tony returned. Strange stood up and pulled the chair beside him for May, who gave him an appreciative smile and sat down, while Peter sat next to her and beside Steve.

"We're doing family style dinner," Tony explained – mostly for Peter and May, although Clint had only arrived an hour or so before, so it didn't hurt to tell him also. "After dinner, once it is dark enough, we'll head out to the field, where as we speak a mountain of blankets and cushions are being prepared for our comfort." And everyone _else's_. "Then back here for drinks before our guest has to go home."

May smiled at that, pleased to have been invited. She gave a slight nod, and Tony sat down just as a small army of servers arrived with platters of meatloaf, vegetables, freshly baked bread and bowls of mashed potatoes and gravy and all the fixings. The people around the table fell mostly silent as they ate, although they did chat about little things, and everyone seemed to want to ask May about her week and making sure she understood that she was very welcome there.

Tony was watching Peter more than anything else while he ate. Not that the boy was aware of it, and he didn't stint the conversations around him, but he was watching the boy's appetite, his expression and how he interacted with the others. He seemed cheerful enough, but he didn't have to be sitting beside him to know that it wasn't quite the same. From the occasional glances shared between Strange and Natasha, he wasn't the only one to notice, either.

When they were done eating, he sent everyone – including the stragglers still hanging out in the lounge – out to the field, knowing full well that Pepper would save him a place beside her and told them he was going to change. Strange held back as well, since he needed to change, also.

"Well?"

"Give him time, Tony. It's only been an _hour_."

Stark scowled, but he had to admit that was true. Waiting wasn't his strong point, though, and he knew it. It was one of the things that drove him to be so relentless.

"I'm going to go change."

Strange waved his hand and suddenly both of them were dressed in jeans and pullover sweatshirts with hoods.

Tony looked down at himself, and gave Strange a look.

" _Orange?"_

The doctor winked, amused.

"Just making a point."

The orange sweatshirt turned into a gray one.

"Point taken."

OOOOOOOOOOO

The movie was a new one. So new it had only come to theaters the week before. Stark hadn't had any trouble getting his hands on a copy, though, and a technician to show it on the large screen he and the others had erected that afternoon.

After a short pause before joining the others, Strange saw that the field was littered with blankets, both for sitting on and for covering up with if the evening grew chill. There were fat cushions everywhere for people to use and several tables on the side of the field heavy with snacks of all kinds. There was even a popcorn cart producing enough popcorn to more than satisfy the sixty or so people that were gathered.

The lights on the edge of the field were spotlighting the area now, although Tony told him they'd go off when the movie started, and they had no trouble finding Pepper and May, who was sitting on a blanket next to Peter and Natasha. The rest of the group had wandered off to sit with others and Steve had gone to double check arrangements with the tech running the movie.

Stark settled himself next to Pepper, asking her if she needed anything, and Stephen lowered himself to the grass between Peter, who was – of course – next to May, and Natasha, who had been sharing a bowl of popcorn with the boy. Both greeted him with a smile, and he noticed with some amusement that the cloak was taking advantage of the shadows cast by the spotlights to disobediently caress the back of Peter's head, where May couldn't see it.

"Behave," he murmured to it as he positioned a cushion behind his back and made sure Peter had one handy as well. It ignored him, and continued its ministrations.

The boy leaned back into his cushion, but also leaned a little against May, resting his head on her shoulder. She shifted enough to put an arm around him, holding him gently and Strange knew the boy wasn't going to make it through the movie awake. He didn't have a chance.

Natasha reached over him to give Peter the bowl of popcorn and then settled against his side just as the spotlights went out. He found a blanket in the dark and pulled it over them, tucking it around her to make sure she would be warm enough and then promptly spilled Peter's popcorn all over himself and the boy and May trying to take a handful in the dark. He and the boy both chuckled at that.

The cloak wasn't impressed, though, and as the movie started it was shaking itself, taking advantage of the dark to get rid of the popcorn before it ended up smelling like butter.

Something Peter and Strange could both appreciate.


	134. Chapter 135

Peter didn't make it through the movie without falling asleep. He really didn't expect to, even though once he saw what movie it was, he tried. It was one he'd planned on seeing with Ned when it came out, but since he'd fallen ill, that and any other plans he had had fallen through, of course. He fell asleep comfortably ensconced between May and Doctor Strange, with the cloak's cheerful humming lulling him to sleep.

"Peter?"

May shook him awake during the ending credits, unaware that the plan had been for someone to just carry him up to his bed. She wanted to have a little more time with him before she left. The spotlights came on at the same time she said his name and he flinched away from the light, but was definitely awake, now.

He sat up, and looked around. People around them were getting up and shaking out their blankets, popcorn and other snacks that had been lost in the darkness flying about. There were plenty of creatures in the trees on the edge of the field that would be happy to clean those up. Everyone was discussing the movie and the ending – which Peter assumed from the conversation had been quite shocking.

"It's over?"

She nodded, smiling at how sleepy he looked – which was adorable, compared to him looking exhausted.

"Yes."

Strange had gotten to his feet and extended a hand to Natasha to help her to hers, and then reached for Peter's hand to help _him_ up, as well. The Cloak of Levitation was wrapped limply around Peter's shoulders, now, and was doing a great job of pretending to be a regular cloak. Although normal cloaks were out of place on sweatshirts, and they definitely didn't hum cheerfully into a person's mind.

"How do you feel?" he asked the boy, reaching for his forehead almost as a reflex.

"Fine."

Of course, Strange knew May was going to hear the reply, and Peter did as well. The boy could have been bleeding to death and that would have been the response he gave. He was a bit _warm_ , but that was probably because of the cloak being with him nonstop, so the doctor decided that he probably didn't feel too fevered, at any rate.

"Well?" Tony asked, coming over with Pepper, looking a bit rumpled, but pleased with himself. He was obviously surprised to see Peter awake. "How was it?"

"Good."

"How much of it did you _see_?" May asked, well aware that he hadn't made it all the way through.

"The spaceship blew up."

"There was more than _one_ …"

"Let's go inside," Stark suggested. "I could use a drink after that ending."

They joined the crowd of people heading toward the door, but rather than go to the lounge – where several people seemed to be going, Stark and Pepper led the way to their quarters instead. There was a bar there, as well, and plenty of sofa space and chairs for everyone to sit in.

"How do you feel?" Natasha asked Peter when he sat down on the closest couch while May went to get something to drink at the bar Tony had planted himself behind.

He was tired, but he didn't know if it was the walk to their rooms, or that he had just woken up, or if it was because he was _always_ tired. He settled for the easiest answer.

"A little tired."

That way he wasn't lying, but she wouldn't need to worry.

Natasha wasn't fooled by any means, of course.

"Did you have a good time?"

He nodded.

"It was good to see May."

His aunt returned at that moment and smiled, putting her hand on his shoulder.

"It's good to see _you_ , too. Are you getting any of that homework done?"

He shook his head.

"I'll work on it tomorrow."

Stephen walked by, heading to the bar, and May excused herself for another moment, obviously wanting to talk to the doctor – and not with Peter around to hear the conversation. She wanted to know how he was doing, but didn't want her nephew to know if there was anything to be worried about. As far as she was concerned, he had enough on his plate just trying to get better.

Peter and Natasha watched her go.

"I _saw_ that mountain of homework you have," Natasha told him. "You're going to be working on it a lot longer than just tomorrow."

He nodded his agreement, but he didn't look worried.

"I'll be fine once I get started. I just haven't been very motivated to do much of anything but sleep, lately."

Natasha completely understood. She reached out and touched his cheek, fondly.

"If you need help, let me know. Just because I don't like it, doesn't mean I wouldn't be willing to at least assist."

"Thanks, Natasha."

The others rejoined them, and they sat around for a little while, talking – mostly about little, unimportant things. May couldn't stay long, though, since she had to get home to get some sleep for the next day.

"I'll call Happy," Tony offered, handing his drink to Pepper and standing up.

"I'll walk you out," Peter told her, starting to stand up.

"No," May corrected him, leaning over and kissing his cheek and then giving him a hug but keeping him on the sofa. " _You'll_ go to bed and get some sleep."

" _I'll_ walk her out," Strange offered.

"So will I," Stark said, offering May his arm with his most charming smile.

"Then _we'll_ walk Peter to his rooms," Pepper said, standing up and offering Peter her arm in an echo of Tony's actions.

He blushed and stood up, shaking his head, but accepting her arm.

May smiled at that and they separated, the men heading for the garage with May, while the women put Peter between them, with Natasha holding an arm around his waist, companionably. The cloak suddenly came to life once more, wrapping itself around Peter's shoulders, neck and head, rubbing his ears and muttering to itself about popcorn in his hair.

"You don't _really_ need to walk me," he pointed out to them. "I'm not going to fall asleep on the way."

"Tired of our company?" Natasha asked, teasing him.

"More worried that you'll get tired of mine."

Pepper laughed at that, but Natasha only gave him a slight smile and tightened the hold that she had on him.

"We enjoy your company," she told him, seriously. "You know that, right?"

That made him smile, although he didn't answer her. Instead he concentrated on not ruining the moment by falling on his face when they reached the stairs. Sometimes they felt like there were a million of them – at least when he was tired.

OOOOOOOOOO

"He looked like he enjoyed himself."

"I would agree," Strange said.

"Thanks for having me out."

"You're the reason he enjoyed himself," Tony told her. Which made her smile.

"He's still so thin, though…"

"We're going to work on that this week," Stephen promised her. "A lot of food and a lot of rest."

"You'll call if he needs anything?"

"Of course," Stark promised, as they walked through the door to the garage. Happy was already waiting beside one of the cars. "And you call me if _you_ need anything, please."

"I just need him healthy."

She hugged Tony, and gave Strange a smile, then got in the door Happy had opened for her.

The two men watched as the car left the garage and the door closed behind it.

"That was a very good idea, Tony. For both of them."

"I get them occasionally."

"What's the plan for tomorrow?" Strange asked him as they turned to head back towards the corridor. They didn't discuss it, but both were planning on stopping in and checking on Peter.

"Suggestions?"

"Feed him and make him stay in bed – or let him sleep out in the sun if he wants. I don't want him thinking about anything more complicated than what he wants for lunch."

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to the Sanctum. His fever's down enough that you don't need me hovering over him – and neither does he."

"You're good company, though."

"I'll probably drop in sometime tomorrow evening – just to check on things."

"You do that."

"Try to keep him out of trouble."

"I'll find him a good book to read and a quiet corner for him to read it in."


	135. Chapter 136

_The planet was teeming with life. Not anything that he recognized, and he'd never in his fifteen years looked up in the sky and saw three moons in the distance, but he'd known immediately that it wasn't_ Earth _he was standing on. Everything was just too foreign looking. There were people. He assumed they were some kind of people, anyway, because they walked on two legs and congregated like people would. They had older looking people, and definitely younger people, all being watched by the older people – but at the moment they were all looking up at the sky._

 _He looked up, too, and saw something massive breaking the atmosphere above him. Huge, and almost certainly not controlled. Not to judge from the way it was coming at the surface of the planet. Even as large as it was, with a sense of gradualness, it was obviously going so fast that nothing was going to stop it from striking._

 _The group he'd been watching clearly recognized that, as well. Young were scooped up and everyone started running, screaming and making other frightened noises._

 _He didn't run. For one thing, he was still in awe of what he was seeing. For another, he knew there was no where he could run to avoid the devastation of the impact that was coming. He lifted his hand, standing his ground, but this was surely going to be a planet killer._

Something was nudging him, tickling his ear gently. A delicate touch that moved along his ear, to his cheek and then against his neck where it stayed for a moment. He assumed that it was the cloak, but the closer he came to waking, the more he knew that wasn't the case, since he knew Dr. Strange had returned to the Sanctum that night, and had taken the cloak with him.

Besides, the cloak was _cloth_ and whatever it was, it was way too soft to be cloth. Unless it was velvet of some kind, maybe.

The thing brushed against him again, and something nudged against his knee at the same time. Peter opened his eyes, confused by not only the touch, but the fact that he was pretty sure he smelled grass.

The first thing he saw were legs. Not _people_ legs, but thin, incredibly delicate looking legs that went from black hooves in the grass all the way up to a white furry belly. He frowned, and looked at the grass again as the thing that had nudged him touched him once more, and he found himself literally face to face with a deer that was grazing on the tender grass right by his jaw.

He gasped, jerking backward. It startled the deer, which raised its head, suddenly tense as it watched him, warily. It was a doe. At least, he assumed it was since there were no antlers growing out of the top of its head like there were on several of the other deer that were all watching him, too, now. Besides, peeking around from its other end was a younger, much smaller deer that still seemed to have baby softness, even though it didn't have the spots like Peter thought baby deer were supposed to have.

Sitting up, and looking around, completely confused as to why he was laying in the grass out in the field when he knew he'd fallen asleep in his own bed that night, Peter rubbed his face. The motion was too much for the deer in front of him and her tail whipped up as she pivoted on her back legs and took off as if shot out of a cannon – the baby following. The rest of the deer in the field ran off, too, but most of them only went as far as the other end, near the tree line.

They stood there, watching him for a long moment, before most went back to grazing.

"What…?"

With the deer gone, he was alone, so there was no one around to explain to him what he was doing – or how he'd gotten there. He looked at his watch, confirming what his eyes were telling him. It was very early Monday morning, and clearly no one was awake, yet.

Peter got to his feet, shivering a bit. He'd gone to bed wearing only a pair of sweats, and that was all he was wearing, now. The morning was chilly, with the faint lightening of the skies above the trees the only indication of the sun, and not even close to enough to warm him. Walking barefoot through the dew covered grass, he headed for the building, trying to understand how he'd ended up where he was and thinking the next time he should at least wrap a blanket over his shoulders.

He made it as far as the corridor by his quarters before he saw anyone, and Steve Rogers definitely gave him an odd look when he walked out of his rooms and saw Peter coming from the opposite direction, wearing nothing but a pair of sweats that were fairly damp.

"Out for a morning stroll?" he asked, noting that the bruises that had lined his torso were fading nicely.

Peter shrugged, feeling foolish – and had no idea why he was out, but it hadn't been for a stroll. Or to get nearly eaten by a deer.

"Yeah. Something like that."

"Are you okay?"

The boy looked a little confused.

"What? Yeah, I'm fine. Just… um… wet. I'm going to go change."

"Need anything?"

"I'm good. Thanks."

"Okay…"

He watched as the boy let himself into his quarters and closed the door, and then shook his head, bemused. He would never in his life say he'd seen everything there was to see, but at least now he had something to add to his list.

OOOOOOOOO

"Peter?"

This time he knew exactly who was waking him, even before he was completely awake. He opened his eyes, not at all surprised when he saw Stark sitting on the edge of his bed. The room smelled like maple syrup and bacon, so even though he didn't see it, Peter assumed Mr. Stark had breakfast somewhere close at hand.

"Hey…"

"Good morning." Tony ran his hand along the boy's forehead and cheek, lingering just a moment with the touch as he watched him wake up a little. "How do you feel?"

"Fine."

"Tired?"

"Yeah. A little."

"You can go back to sleep in a little while. I wanted to make sure you had breakfast. Hungry?"

"Sure."

He sat up, and Tony reached for the tray that had been sitting in the chair that Strange had added to the decorating earlier and hadn't removed. Stark didn't mind since it was convenient.

Breakfast was pancakes, bacon and eggs.

"Did you have a good time last night?" Tony asked as he started eating.

"It was great."

"You looked like you were enjoying yourself."

"Yeah. Thanks."

"We're going to try to keep you off your feet today, okay? You still look beat, and it worried May, so let's work on that, huh?"

"Okay."

"I happen to be free most of the day, so I've been put in charge of making sure you eat and that when you're not asleep you're not bored out of your mind."

"You don't have to do that," Peter said. "I could just-"

"There are very few things that I _have_ to do," Tony interrupted, lifting a hand to stop his protest before it could even start. "Spending time with you isn't a _chore_ for me. It's something that I like doing, and not something I'll be able to do all the time, so I have to do it when I can. Like when _you're_ stuck in bed and can't go find more interesting things to do than hang out with me. _Carpe diem_ and all that. Get it?"

"Yeah."

"Unless you have a different choice. _Natasha_ wanted to spend the day with you, but we arm wrestled and I won."

Peter smiled at that, and shook his head. She probably had a ton of other things to do, too.

"No."

He liked spending time with Stark. Who wouldn't?

"Good." Tony smiled, and tousled the boy's hair, affectionately. "Eat your breakfast and we'll decide what we want to do today."


	136. Chapter 137

He finished his breakfast with only a little nagging from Tony toward the end. It was hard to fatten someone up, after all, if they refused to eat what was put in front of them. Once he was done, though, he had to admit that he really didn't feel like getting up to do much of anything. Even the effort of eating seemed to make him tired. Or maybe just the silent battle of wills with Tony Stark.

"I have homework I should get started on," he reminded Stark, who shook his head, remembering what Strange had said about not having Peter stressed.

"We'll start it tomorrow, okay? While I don't normally advocate procrastination, this is one of the few times I think we should wait."

"It's gotta get done."

"It will. _Tomorrow_. How about a movie?"

"I'll just fall asleep."

Which had kind of been the idea.

"Okay. We watch some TV."

Tony put the breakfast tray aside and settled himself next to Peter on the bed, picking up his remote and turning the television on. Peter frowned, looking up at him.

" _Lifetime_?"

"No. I'm just scrolling through. _Pepper_ likes some of the shows."

"Okay."

They settled for a documentary on the Science channel, about robotics and the future. Not that the guys on the TV were doing the cutting edge things that Tony Stark had cooking up both at the tower in the city and at the Avenger facility, but it had some promise of being interesting, and neither of them were bored by it.

Tony had paid close attention to Peter while he'd eaten and while he was simply sitting beside him. Yes, he seemed tired, which was pretty much the norm for him lately, but he also seemed a little distant, as if he were distracted by something. Which could have been him being distracted because he was still not as healthy as they expected him to be, but it could be something completely different, and Stark was not the patient man that Stephen Strange was.

When the show was over, he turned off the TV and sat beside the boy silently for a long moment, debating how he wanted to approach the question he wanted to ask. He wasn't that good at being _subtle_ , either, most of the time – although he was learning.

"So, what's going on with you?" he finally asked.

"What do you mean?"

"You seem… a little off kilter."

Peter shrugged.

"I feel okay."

"That's not what I asked, young man," he said, putting an arm around Peter's shoulders. "I already have a basic idea of how you _feel_. Is something bothering you?"

"No."

"You're lying."

"Yeah."

God, he was a terrible liar. And worse at _lying_ about it.

"What is it?"

Peter shook his head.

"Nothing."

"Do I need to bring Romanoff in to ask you?"

They both knew he didn't have a chance of keeping the secret from her now that Stark knew there was a secret being kept.

"It's nothing," Peter repeated. "Just some bad dreams."

"Nightmares?"

Tony was instantly alert.

"Not _my_ nightmares," Peter told him. "It's not like before, when the dreams were scary. These are just dreams about bad things happening."

"Happening to whom?"

He shrugged.

"I don't know. Not people _here_."

"At the compound, you mean?"

" _On Earth_."

"What?"

Peter hesitated.

"I don't even recognize any of the _places_ in these dreams, or the _things_ that the bad things are happening to, and this morning I woke up in the field."

Stark's reaction was predictable. Which had been the whole point of the hesitation.

"What?"

"I said, I don't recognize any-"

"I heard that part. What do you mean you woke up in the field this morning?"

"It's no big deal," Peter told him.

"Of _course_ it is. You didn't think to mention that before?"

Peter shook his head.

"I used to do it a lot," he said, looking down at his hands when he felt Tony's hold on him tighten a little. "When I first came to live with May. She even took me to see a psychologist, but he said I'd grow out of it – and I _did_ , mostly. Don't tell her."

Tony was silent, his arm still around Peter, who was so tense he felt like a tightly wound spring in his grip. He realized he wasn't doing a very good job of keeping Peter's mind on the mundane and helping him relax, and he forced himself to ease up his reaction a little.

"How many times have you done the sleepwalking thing?" he asked, trying to project calm instead of concern. There was no better way to get someone to clam up than put them on the defensive, after all. Or to scare them. Stark would never do either to Peter on purpose.

"Here?"

"Yeah."

"Last night was the first."

Tony wondered if that was true. It was possible that that was what happened the night the boy stole his bed while they were watching movies, and he knew about the time he and Strange had had to go pull him out of the woods, even though Peter had never been told. Clearly it _wasn't_ the first time while he'd been at the compound, just the first he was aware of.

"Okay. So we know about it, now, and we can deal with it – if it happens again."

"It was probably just a onetime thing," the boy told him. "Don't worry about it."

"Yeah."

He would, of course. He just wouldn't let Peter know that he was.

"So these dreams aren't happening on Earth?"

"I don't think so. Nowhere that I recognize, anyway – and the people in the dreams don't look like people. More like what I would think an alien might look like, maybe."

"So you think you're imagining these things?" Stark asked. "Making up the dreams?"

"It's the only thing I can think of. But they're pretty bleak."

And obviously affecting the boy when he was awake.

"What are they about?"

Peter described some of the ones he could remember the best, and was able to give incredibly detailed scenarios of what were obviously apocalyptic events. He even tried to describe some of the 'people' he'd seen in the dreams, but they were so off the wall that Stark couldn't even imagine them _with_ the descriptions, really.

By the time he had talked himself out, Tony could understand why Peter had been so off lately. Fevers aside, of course, seeing such terrible things over and over would depress _anyone_. He wondered if the Mind stone was somehow connected, and decided that the timing was pretty suspicious and figured he'd have a word with Stephen about it. True, Strange didn't have anything to do with the Mind stone, but he had one of the Infinity stones, and as well read as he and Wong were, they had to have some idea what – if anything – could be done. He'd also see about talking to Vision about the whole problem and see if he had anything to add.

For now, though, he had a different matter to deal with. One that was a lot closer and needed him a lot more.

He picked up the remote with the hand that wasn't around Peter, and turned on the TV again.

"We'll watch a movie and then have lunch, okay?" he suggested, knowing that the boy was wiped out. Yes, he'd sleep through the movie, but that was all well and good. If Tony had his way, Peter would sleep through the _day_ , waking only to eat.

Peter nodded, and leaned into Stark's side, feeling exhausted once more, but also much better for having had a chance to tell someone about the dreams. Preferably someone that wouldn't run a hand along his forehead and ask if he was still fevered. Stark had clearly believed him, and wasn't making a big fuss as Peter had half feared that he would. He'd _expected_ him to, really. Instead, he was calm and a solid presence beside him. Someone to lean on, in more than one sense, just then.

He closed his eyes as the opening logo to the movie Tony selected started rolling and fell asleep before he even knew what it was they were watching.


	137. Chapter 138

It was Natasha who delivered lunch. She smiled when she brought the tray in to Peter's room. It never got old to her to see Peter cuddled against Stark's side, especially when he was sleeping. He had his head on Tony's chest and an arm draped over him, completely oblivious to the movie that was rolling the end credits on the television screen. Of course, she didn't realize it but Stark was the same way when the positions were reversed and it was _her_ that Peter was sleeping against, so he decided that fair was fair and he tried to look extra cute for her.

"How's he doing?" she whispered, setting the tray down on the edge of the bed since the breakfast tray was still on the chair.

"He's fine. Sleepy."

"Good. Need a break?"

"No, I'm good." He hadn't been lying when he said he wanted to spend time with Peter. "Anything I need to know about?"

"Clint and Steve are going to Mexico City."

"I thought _you_ were going."

"I'm going to stick around here, in case you need anything. Steve said he didn't mind."

"Tell them to bring me back some tequila."

"And a _senorita_?"

"Pepper would kill me – _and_ them."

Besides, he'd outgrown those days. It had just taken a while.

"I'll have them bring something back for Peter, too."

"A mariachi band?"

"A _senorita_."

They both smiled at that and Peter stirred slightly against Tony's embrace, probably in response to Natasha's voice. Or maybe the smell of lunch. Or both.

She went around to the other side of the bed and sat next to Stark, watching as the boy woke up, looking around with that slightly confused expression she loved seeing on his face – although he probably shouldn't know it.

"Hey…" she knew enough to speak slowly when speaking to anyone just waking up. Peter was no exception.

"Hi, Natasha."

She rested her hand on his forehead, mostly out of habit, since he didn't look flushed or fevered, and he wasn't.

"I brought you some lunch. Chili dogs."

He sat up a little more, rubbing his face.

"Thanks."

She leaned over Stark long enough to press a kiss against Peter's cheek and then got up.

"Call me if you need me."

Neither of them knew which she of them she was talking to.

"You're not eating?' Peter asked, watching her walk around the bed.

"I already did," she told him, pleased that he did still want her company. "I'll come back and have dinner with you. Okay?"

"Yeah."

"Thanks," Tony told her as she picked up the breakfast tray and headed for the door.

She smiled and left, and the two separated enough to put the tray in between them and pull the covers off the dishes on it. As she'd already warned them, there were several hot dogs, with the usual condiments on the side, but also a large bowl of chili, and smaller containers of onions and cheese. A bag of chips and a small plate of sliced vegetables rounded it out, with a couple of slices of cake – chocolate for Tony and white for Peter.

Natasha knew her guys.

"Looks good," Stark said, getting up and going to the fridge by Peter's window to get himself a beer and Peter a soda, which he brought back to the bed and opened once he'd reclaimed his spot.

"Yeah."

They were mostly silent while they ate, but that was fine with both of them. Chilidogs required a certain amount of concentration – especially when being eaten in bed – to avoid catastrophe, and despite the fact that they hadn't done any more than lounge around all morning, Stark was hungry. He watched Peter eat, surreptitiously, and once again was forced to nag him when he slowed down before finishing.

Only when the dishes were all empty and the chips were gone did he move the tray off the bed and over to the chair.

"Better?"

"Yeah, thanks."

"Cards?"

Peter shook his head.

"I can't afford to lose any more money to you, or I'll have to take out student loans."

Tony smiled at that, and got up and brought out a Trivial Pursuit game, figuring they'd both be good at it, and it was a new enough version that the questions would be fresh. Peter nodded his agreement and sat up a little more as Stark set the board up and he arranged the boxes of questions.

OOOOOOOOOO

"Stark won't care for that."

"Yeah, I know. But it might be the solution we are looking for. If I can just figure out how to keep it from killing Peter without losing its properties, it could work to stop the fevers."

"It probably _won't_."

Strange gave his friend a look that made Wong shrug.

"I'm just saying. The vibrations are how he feels the magic, and we've established that the vibration cause the fevers. They're connected and not exclusive."

"There has to be a way to-"

There was suddenly a purely magical alert that brought both men to their feet, the books in front of them forgotten. The cloak, which had been hanging quietly in its display was suddenly soaring toward Strange, attaching itself to its normal position at his collar as the two men headed for the stairs and then the front door.

"Who's that?" Wong asked as a magic spell allowed them to see the person standing outside that had triggered the alert.

"Vision." Strange replied, activating another spell that brought the man into the Sanctum rather than having him on the front step.

He stepped forward, with Wong one step behind him to act as back up in case needed – although Stephen had told him who – or what – Vision was when he'd returned to the Sanctum.

"Doctor Strange," Vision said by way of greeting, looking around with interest, since he'd never been in the Sanctum before.

"Vision." Strange gestured toward his friend. "This is Wong."

They nodded to each other, but in his typical manner, Vision didn't stop for peasantries He rarely did.

"I believe the Mind stone is making its presence known to Peter – without the boy being aware of it."

"How so?"

"You remember I told you of the connection it established with the boy?"

"Yes."

"It seems to be sharing with him some of its memories. Since they are not images appropriate for a young boy, I thought someone should be warned – and I cannot go to the Avenger's compound as you know."

" _Porn_?" Wong asked.

"World ending events," Vision replied. "Planets crashing into other planets, experiments made by populations that have literally blown themselves and their planets to rubble. Situations like that. I cannot control the connection, but I have seen some of what it has been sharing, and I am certain it would leave its mark on someone who was not aware of what they were seeing – or why."

"Yeah." Strange had to agree. "How long has this been going on?"

"Two days. I would have come sooner, but I wanted to be sure before I approached you."

"Is there anything you can do?" Wong asked.

"I will try to explain to it what it might be doing," Vision told them both. "But I do not control it. Perhaps I can redirect it, though."

"So is it showing him these as memories from individuals?' Strange asked. "How does that work?"

"It has seen into the minds of everyone," Vision said. "But it also holds memories of its own. The perspective can be many differing angles. None will be pleasant, though. Warn Tony, please, so he can be prepared if something happens."

"I will."


	138. Chapter 139

Tony was lounging on Peter's bed, flipping through his cell phone. The boy was asleep, nestled against his side with his face buried in his shirt and had been out for about an hour or so, with all signs looking like he might sleep right up until dinner. Which was fine with him.

His peripheral vision caught a motion just as the Cloak of Levitation came soaring into the room, and Stark watched with no little amusement as the thing hesitated at the edge of the bed, floating in the air as it was obviously trying to figure out how to throttle itself around Peter when the boy was so tightly against Tony's side with the man's arm over him, holding him close.

He finally rolled his eyes and relented, lifting his arm out of the way as he let go of Peter.

"Come on… but don't wake him up."

The cloak carefully insinuated itself into its preferred position, draping itself over Peter and tucking itself around him with plenty of fabric left to cover part of Stark's side as well. Then it was still.

"What did you do?" Strange asked as he walked into the bedroom, just in time to watch the cloak get comfortable. " _Bore_ him to death?"

Tony was glad to see him, it would save him a call later.

"We were talking about _you_ , and poof! right to sleep."

The doctor smiled and their lunch tray vanished with a thought, freeing up the chair so he could sit down.

"How's he doing?"

"He's been sleeping, except for a documentary on TV earlier and a rousing game of Trivial Pursuit after lunch."

"Good."

"Apparently he's a sleepwalker."

"Yes, May told me that, back when this whole thing started and I was getting a history."

"You might have mentioned it to someone."

Strange shrugged.

"I thought you knew. Besides, she said he hasn't done it in years."

"He told me he woke up in the field this morning."

"Really?" Strange leaned back in the chair. "The problem with being a know-it-all, Tony. People think you already know everything."

Stark smiled.

"Touché."

Strange hesitated, his expression thoughtful as he looked at Peter.

"I had an interesting visit today from your friend Vision."

"Really? That's a coincidence. I was planning on calling him. Apparently Peter's been having some very vivid dreams about some truly horrific things. I was wondering if it might be the rock in Vision's head causing it somehow."

"That was the whole point of his visit," Strange confirmed. "He wanted me to warn you, since he can't come here directly right now."

"What's it doing?"

"Apparently it's attempting to bond with Peter. Right now it's sharing some of its memories with him – and potentially memories from the people who experienced them first hand."

"The _bad_ ones," Tony said, brushing his hand gently against Peter's cheek. "He was telling me about some of the dreams he's been having. Now we know where they're coming from, at least."

"What kind of dreams is he having?"

Stark described to him what Peter had told him, sometimes using the same phrases the boy had used. It was similar enough to what Vision had told him that when Tony finished Strange nodded.

"That lines up about right. And certainly explains why Peter has been acting so subdued, lately. Something like that would throw anyone off."

"And the sleepwalking?"

"I'd say it's a possibility. It started when he lost his parents, there's no reason to think something like this might not retrigger an episode or two."

"So what do we do about it?"

"Vision's going to work on things at that end. There isn't really much _we_ can do about the stone. As for the dreams; we need to make sure Peter understands what they are and where they're coming from so he isn't frightened by them. And try to get him to talk them out so he doesn't keep them bottled up."

"Makes sense."

"I'm not sure how to keep him in his bed at night. You have a lot of tech here; now that you know what's going on there must be a way of alerting you if he ends up out in the field."

"Or worse, in the _pool_."

From the concerned look that flashed across Strange's expression that option obviously hadn't occurred to him.

"Figure out something, okay? Just in case."

"I will."

"What are you planning for tonight?" Stephen asked, picking up one of the boxes with trivia cards in it from the game that had been put aside after they'd finished playing. "Movies?"

"I think so. I want to get him out of bed for dinner – unless you think that's a bad idea – but then something that will put him right back to sleep if possible. He's a movie buff, so it's pretty convenient to have that available."

"It won't hurt him to get out of bed for a while," Strange agreed. "Nothing too stimulating, though."

"You're welcome to stick around, just to keep an eye on things."

"I think I will. Who won the game?"

Stark preened, looking smug.

"I did."

"By a _lot_?"

"It was close," Tony admitted. "But there's a lot of luck involved. The right question at the right time, that kind of thing. It won't be so close, next time."

Strange pulled a card from the box.

" _What's the annual rainfall in Vatican City?"_

Stark scowled.

"Why would anyone need to know that?'

"Answer the question – _without_ help from your AI."

"Ten inches."

"Not even close."

"Give me another."

OOOOOOOOOO

"What in the world are you guys _doing_?"

Strange and Stark both looked up, startled, to find Romanoff standing at Peter's bedroom door, leaning against it with her arms crossed and an amused expression on her face.

"Playing Trivial Pursuit," Tony replied.

"Aren't there usually a board and game pieces involved?"

As near as she could tell, all there was were about a million trivia cards scattered all over the bed, including on Peter's head and all over the cloak.

"We didn't have room for all of that."

Or the patience to roll dice and move the pie around. They had just focused on the trivia aspect rather than actually pursuing each other. When they'd made their way through the first box of cards, taking turns to ask each other all the questions from each card drawn, Strange had simply brought another box out, and their afternoon had consisted of watching Peter sleep and trying to stump the other with something insanely difficult.

She rolled her eyes in disbelief, but was also sorry to have missed it. They were both brilliant. It would have been fun to watch them go at each other – especially when they came to a question that they didn't know the answer to.

"It's dinner time. Do we wake him and go eat? Or should I bring a tray?"

The cards all vanished, neatly back in their boxes which ended up stacked on the stand by the bed.

"We get him up," Tony said. He shifted just a little so he could wake Peter up. "And I want a _rematch_."

"Any time."

Romanoff just shook her head.


	139. Chapter 140

Peter woke without much issue, but getting him on his feet took a little more effort. Not that he wasn't willing, because he _was_ , but he felt worn out and weak in the legs, and they just didn't want to hold him up at first. He leaned heavily on Stark, who had been the one hovering closest when they realized that he was having problems and walked around his bedroom a little, the cloak crooning sympathetically into his mind as he got himself straightened out a little.

"You okay?" Tony asked, frowning, when Peter loosened his grip a little, and then let go completely.

"Yeah. Sorry."

"No need to be," Natasha told him. "Should we just eat in here?" she asked, looking over at Strange.

"No. Let's get him moving and see how he does. Too much time in bed isn't any better for him than not enough."

Peter was willing, so they headed for the lounge, which was closest to the boy's rooms and also would be a little quieter. Despite his words, Strange was right beside him the entire way, with Stark hovering on the other side, both ready to assist in case he faltered.

It took a bit longer than it should have, but they made it without incident and had him settled in the corner table without any fuss.

"It's chicken tonight," Tony told him. "Unless you want something else…?"

"Anything is fine," Peter told him, honestly.

Stark left to order their dinner, and Natasha and Strange kept him company while they waited.

"Did you tell him about the dreams?" Stark asked when he returned a few minutes later.

"What dreams?" Natasha asked.

While they waited for dinner, Strange told Natasha and Peter both what Vision had told him. Natasha because there was no reason to keep it a secret from her, and Peter because he had to know what was going on. He didn't mention the sleepwalking, because he wasn't sure that it was something Peter would want to discuss, and while Natasha _should_ be aware of it, they could tell her later, so she could be aware of the possibility of a repeat occurrence.

Peter looked a little relieved to hear that the dreams weren't something that his mind was making up – they were fairly awful, after all – but Natasha frowned, looking over at the boy.

"You were having nightmares and didn't tell me?"

"They aren't nightmares," he told her, reasonably. "Just bad dreams."

"Which is pretty much the definition of _nightmare_ , Peter."

He was saved by the arrival of their dinner, but the looks Natasha gave him as they ate advised him silently that the conversation wasn't over, yet. Stark and Strange were no help; they both look amused, pretty much glad it wasn't _them_ that she was annoyed with and waiting for a lecture from.

"Vision's going to work on things from his end," Stark told them as they finished eating, bringing the subject back up. "We'll just have to hope that he can talk some sense into the thing and get it to leave you alone."

"Good luck with _that_ ," Natasha said, watching as the cloak was loving up to Peter now that he was finished eating, running its edge against his cheeks and hair, clearly caressing him every way it knew how. She wasn't over her annoyance with Peter, but was not going to let it spoil the evening for him, either. "Magical items must find him fascinating for some reason."

"Apparently," Strange agreed, taking a sip of coffee and relaxing after the meal. "Hopefully the Mind stone will be more compliant than the Cloak of Levitation."

"I'm not counting on it," Tony admitted, but he could hope for the best.

Natasha looked over at Peter.

"How do you feel?"

"Okay."

"Ready to go back to bed? Or are you feeling up to a little world domination?"

"I'm not ready to go back to bed."

Mainly because he didn't want to make the long trek to get there just yet.

"Clear the table," Natasha ordered Strange and Stark, who immediately started doing just that without asking her what she had in mind. She got up and ducked behind the bar for a moment, and then returned carrying a box, which she set on the table. It was _Risk_.

"Ever played?" she asked Peter.

He nodded.

"All the time."

"I haven't," Strange admitted.

"Neither have I," Tony said, opening the box and pulling out the rules.

"It's easy to learn," Natasha told them. "And all about strategy and world domination. You'll love it."

OOOOOOOOO

"I do _not_ love this game…"

Peter couldn't help but smile at that. An hour and a half into the game Tony Stark had lost his final territory to Natasha, who had been a poor winner when her invading infantry took over Madagascar, leaving him on the outside looking in. Three minutes later, and Stephen was in danger of losing his final stronghold of Argentina to Peter, who had amassed an incredible show of strength in Peru and Brazil and was about to end the doctor's presence on the board as well.

"What's not to love?" Natasha asked, innocently.

Of course _she_ was dominating Asia, Europe and Australia, holding serious armies in any territory that was bordered to the rest of the world, where Peter's armies were holding dominion in Africa, North and South America. At least they _were_ now that Strange had lost Argentina.

It was easy to love a game when you had all the armies.

"She's not very nice, is she?" Strange asked Tony, rhetorically.

"You don't really expect me to answer that, do you?"

"No. I suppose not." He looked at the board. "So what happens now? You two fight it out until there is only one army left?"

"Or we sue for peace and settle in and rule the world together," Natasha replied, looking at Peter.

"I could live with that," he told her. He didn't feel like staying up long enough to rule the world – at least not tonight. If he'd been less tired, he wouldn't have been above a marathon attempt. It wouldn't have been the first time he'd done it with Ned, after all. "Peace?"

"Sure."

"It's all _luck_ ," Tony told Strange as they started clearing the board.

"Look Peter, Tony's making himself some whine with sour grapes."

The doctor smiled at that, and shook his head. He had to admit that even though he'd lost the world, he'd had a good time doing it. There were certainly worse ways to spend an evening. He might have even suggested that they play something else, but Peter was clearly flagging and it was time to get him back to bed.

"I'm going to go call Pepper," Stark told them, not at all annoyed at being teased by Natasha. He gave it out and had to be willing to get if when it was due. Which he was. From her, anyway. "Can you guys make sure Peter gets to his room?"

"Of course."

Tony looked at Peter.

"How are you feeling?"

"I'm okay."

"Good. If you need me, call. Otherwise I'll see you in the morning."

"Okay."

Stark left them, and Natasha ran a hand along the boy's forehead. He was warm, but only a little, and it was probably from the cloak.

"Ready?"

"Yeah."

With one of them on either side of him, they walked back to Peter's quarters, taking their time and not rushing him at all. While he got himself ready for bed, they went into the living room and Stephen told Natasha about the sleepwalking episode and how the boy had ended up in the field that morning.

"I'm assuming Tony has already come up with a way to make sure it doesn't turn dangerous," he told her when he was finished. "But I wanted to make sure you knew it could happen."

Peter joined them, then, before she could reply. He was in sweats and a t-shirt and the cloak was wrapped around him, rubbing against his cheek. He sat down on the arm of the sofa with a tired sigh.

"We'll try to get you back in the pool in a couple of days," Strange told him. "But not until you're a little steadier."

"Okay. Thanks."

The doctor looked at Natasha.

"You got him?"

"Of course."

"Then I'll probably see you tomorrow sometime. Unless you need me sooner."

He waited for the cloak to transition over to his shoulders from Peter's and then they were gone.

Romanoff walked over to where Peter was sitting, and brushed her fingers through his hair.

"Tell me about these nightmares?"

"They're not _nightmares_ , Natasha," he told her. Again. "Just dreams about bad things happening. They're not happening to me, just to the people I'm dreaming about."

"Are they scary?"

"Not really. More like… _hopeless_. You know? I know bad things are going to happen, and the people I'm seeing know bad things are going to happen and I can feel that."

"Sounds pretty bad."

"Yeah. But it isn't a dream where someone with a chainsaw is chasing me, so it's not scary like that…"

She put her arms around him, hugging him against her.

"Tell me if you have any more, okay?" she said. "That's one of those things we can try to work through before it becomes a problem."

He leaned against her side, stealing a little strength from her support and nodded.

"I will."

"Do you need anything?"

"No."

"Then I'm going to bed. We'll do breakfast."

"Okay."

She let him go, and leaned over to brush a kiss against his cheek and let herself out.

Peter looked at the mountain of homework waiting for him on his coffee table, and then at the door to his room and sighed. He should probably get started on that homework.

Instead, he went to bed.


	140. Chapter 141

_The room was clearly a hospital room of some kind. Even though the people were just odd looking enough to not be human, they were pretty close to it and it was easy to call them people. There were rows of beds, and all of them were filled._

 _He couldn't tell at first what was going on. There was a lot of coughing. A lot of masks on the faces of those who were caring for their fellows, and a lot of monitors keeping track of the health of those in the beds. And occasionally one would fail, be covered with a blanket and be carried out, only to have the bed immediately filled with another sick person._

 _As he watched, one of the caregivers put a very small child into a newly vacated bed, and held it while it cried, softly. Then it coughed, and soon it fell silent. Too silent, apparently, because there was another blanket and another empty bed only moments later._

 _He recoiled from the scene, sorrow filling his very being. Someone had lost their child. He didn't know where and he was somehow aware that it was so long ago that the time didn't matter, but it was a terrible thing to have happen, and an agonizing sight to witness._

 _He closed his eyes, but that didn't stop him from seeing what he was watching, and it didn't make the sadness that he felt dampen. He couldn't stay and watch. He couldn't. Agitated and blinded by tears, he shied from the room, trying to find someplace safe. An escape._

OOOOOOOO

Natasha Romanoff was normally a very light sleeper. Even when she knew she was in a safe place, it wasn't very often that she slept through the night, and even rarer for her to not be aware of what was going on around her at some level of consciousness. It was simply the result of her childhood, her thorough training along the way, and lessons that had been learned the hard way.

So when she heard a noise that didn't belong, she was awake instantly, and there was automatically a blade in her hand.

She glanced at the alarm clock by her bed. It was after three in the morning, and well beyond the changing of the few sentries that were used in the facility. It was also too late for anyone to be out and about just socializing. Tossing her covers to the side, she got up and looked out her window, immediately checking the field and the surrounding area that she could see for anything that didn't belong.

The night was still and silent, though, and she wondered if she'd imagined it, but trusted herself enough to know that there was no way she had. She opened her bedroom door and went out into the living room – and stopped. The door to her quarters was opened, and in the dim light coming from the corridor beyond, she could see someone laying on her sofa, huddled in a miserable ball and silently shaking.

" _Peter…"_

The knife vanished instantly, and she went over to the sofa, sitting down next to him. He didn't seem to realize that she was there.

She put her hand on his shoulder, but he didn't react. He just shivered and she heard a stifled sob. Romanoff stood up, went over and closed the door and then went to her bedroom for the blanket she'd just abandoned. Then she returned to her sofa and simply pulled the boy into her arms, holding him closely and covering them both with the blanket.

He wasn't awake, but he was very much aware of her presence, because he clung to her as if to a lifeline – or to Clint the first time he'd dared the deep end of the swimming pool. His entire body was tense and shaking with reaction, and Natasha simply held him, rocking a little as she whispered to him to let him know she was there, and he was safe.

It was a long time before he stopped shaking.

OOOOOOO

Peter woke slowly. Most of the time he did, probably because he was a teenager who really loved to sleep in when he could – and very rarely had the opportunity. Besides, he didn't _need_ to wake quickly. He liked to use his other senses to know what was going on around him before he opened his eyes and started his day.

He was warm. Which was right. He was also comfortable, and that was nice. He frowned when he realized that he could feel someone holding him, and at the same time knew immediately that it was Natasha. He opened his eyes to find out what was wrong, and why she was in his room. And then knew right away that he wasn't in his room.

Her embrace tightened when she realized that he was awake, and he turned his head, looking up at her, confused.

"Natasha…" he mumbled, feeling wiped out. "What's wrong?"

Her hand brushed his hair, but she didn't loosen her grip on him, still holding him against her as she had been for the last hour or so.

"Nothing," she assured him. "Did you have a dream?"

Peter frowned, wondering why she would ask him that, and then the dream that he'd had came crashing down on him all at once, and he remembered suddenly what it had been like to watch a child die. He nodded, and closed his eyes, the sting of tears warring with a sob that he couldn't choke back, and then felt her tighten her hold on him.

"Shhh…" she pressed her cheek against his, trying to reassure him that he was alright, and that she had him and wasn't going to let go of him anytime soon.

He buried his face against her neck, trying to hide from whatever terrible thing he had seen, and Romanoff patiently held him, giving him all the time that he needed to regain his equilibrium. She ran her fingers through his hair, wondering if she should get Stark or Stephen in on things immediately, or if one more person would just overwhelm him. She decided to just hold him for now, and give him a chance to settle a little first.

Sooner than she expected, he spoke, his voice thick with sorrow.

"There was a hospital," he told her, his face still against her neck and his voice muffled because of it. She could understand him, though, and didn't even try to move him to be able to hear him better. "And a lot of sick people."

"People you knew?" she asked, softly.

"No. Not even on _Earth_ , I don't think. Just _people_. And… and a little _kid_. They were sick…"

Which explained why he was so upset. Watching a billion people on a planet die when it was struck by another planet was one thing, when you were watching it from a distance. Watching one child was far more intimate, and absolutely more devastating. Poor baby.

"I'm going to call Tony. Okay?"

She was more than capable of holding him, and was willing to hold him as long as he needed, but she knew that Stark was probably the one to help him talk this one out – and should be the one to decide if maybe they should call Stephen in to give Peter some kind of sedative to help him over the initial shock.

He nodded against her neck and she kept her grip on him, but shifted just enough to touch her earbud and make a succinct call for assistance to Stark's direct line.

"Don't worry, sweetheart," she told him when she was done. "We'll get through this, okay?"

Peter didn't answer, and he didn't release his grip on her.

OOOOOOOOOO

Stark didn't bother to knock when he reached Romanoff's quarters only a few minutes after Natasha's call. He walked right in, took in the scene on the couch with a quick glance and sat down on the sofa next to her, reaching out and pulling Peter gently out of her grasp.

"Peter?"

The boy wasn't delirious. He could tell that he recognized him immediately, but he was also clearly upset. Just like Natasha had said.

"I'm _sorry_ ," Peter told him. "I just need a minute… I… I don't know…"

"There's nothing to be sorry for," Tony replied, his hand on the back of the boy's head, pulling him into a reassuring hug. "We knew it might happen, right?"

"Yeah."

He could feel Peter trembling in his arms, and knew that Natasha had felt it as well when she pulled the blanket over the two of them, and then simply leaned into Peter's back, the two of them sandwiching the boy with as much support as he could handle.

"You'll be okay," Stark murmured. "It was bad, but nothing we can't handle."

"I know."

"Good. Take a deep breath."

When he felt the boy do what he said, he told him to take another, and then another, giving Peter something to focus on instead of the nightmare. It was a trick he'd learned when dealing with his own nightmares, and something that he knew worked. The trembling eased up, and Peter slumped against him with an exhausted sigh.

"I'm sorry," he repeated, closing his eyes.

"I know…"

He didn't bother to repeat that there was no reason to be. He'd tell him later, when he was better able to focus. For now it was enough that Peter knew they were there – and they _were_. Both of them were holding him so closely that they felt the moment he fell asleep and neither moved for another long moment, unwilling to disturb him. Finally Tony looked at Natasha.

"We'll put him to bed and let him sleep it off."

She nodded, getting up and leading the way to her room, watching as Stark picked Peter up, carried him to her bed and carefully tucked him in.

"Do we call Stephen?" she asked, settling herself next to Peter on the other side of the bed, her hand brushing against his cheek while he slept.

"Not yet," Tony decided. "He can't do anything right now but watch him sleep. There's already enough of us for that."

"Thanks for coming."

"Yeah. Of course." He draped the other blanket that Peter had been wrapped in over her. "Thanks for calling me."


	141. Chapter 142

It was fairly early when Strange transferred himself to the Avenger compound. He wanted to catch Tony before he started his day, and figured he'd check on Peter first. As was his habit, he transferred himself to the corridor outside of the boy's room, figuring once there the Cloak of Levitation would guide him elsewhere if Peter wasn't in his quarters. At this time of day, though, he was pretty sure he wouldn't need to use its odd ability to find the boy wherever he may be.

He was a bit surprised, then, when the thing detached itself from his collar and immediately headed for the door next to Peter's instead, and started jimmying the handle.

"What are you _doing_?" he asked it.

As usual, of course, it didn't answer, it just opened the door and waited for him, as if to make sure he was going to follow. He shrugged and did just that, and allowed it to lead him into Natasha's quarters, already coming up with an excuse for being there instead of in Peter's room. _'I followed the magical flying cloak'_ wasn't the best he could come up with, but sometimes the truth was fairly effective.

The cloak didn't stop in the deserted living area, so neither did he, and he was surprised to find that it was right. Peter was asleep in Natasha's bed, with her right up against him, her left arm holding him protectively and his head tucked under her chin. She was asleep as well.

So was Tony Stark, who was in a chair beside the bed with his feet propped up on the edge and his head back against the chair. He'd obviously fallen asleep keeping an eye on the two. But he jerked awake immediately when the cloak brushed against him as it hovered next to the bed, clearly trying to find the best way to be all over Peter without being all over Natasha as well.

Finally it must have decided it was worth it to cuddle _both_ of them, because it simply draped itself over Peter, enclosing Natasha as well. Which woke her up, of course.

Stark sat up, looking first at the bed, and the sleeping boy and the cloak, and then looked over at Strange, who was silent, giving him – and Natasha – both a chance to wake up. Natasha hadn't jerked when she woke. Not surprisingly, really. Instead, she opened her eyes, took in her surroundings – including the addition of the cloak and the doctor – and carefully shifted Peter's head to her pillow and moved a little ways away from him, tucking the cloak around the side she'd vacated. Only then did she sit up, running her fingers through her hair, sleepily.

"Good morning," Stephen told them both, handing a cup of coffee first to Stark, who was closest, and then reaching over and handing one to Natasha. They both looked like they could use it. "Bad dream?"

"How did you know?" Tony asked, taking an appreciative sip from his cup.

"Just a guess," Strange admitted, softly. "You're both here, so whatever it was had to be serious – but nothing medical, or I know you'd have called me – and I'll assume there's sleepwalking involved, because he was in his room when I left last night."

"You and Sherlock Holmes," Tony said, approvingly.

Strange smiled.

"Elementary." He sat on the edge of the bed, and suddenly, he, too, had a cup of coffee in his hand. "What happened?"

It was Natasha who told him. She started from when shed been woken up by the noise she'd heard and went through to after they'd put Peter to bed. She was very good at reports, and she didn't miss any details, including what Peter had told her the dream had been about. He frowned at the description, because he could completely understand why something like that had made Peter come so badly unglued. It would do the same to anyone. Especially someone who had no familiarity with death.

"A particularly rough one," he murmured once she was finished.

"Yeah. It took a while to settle him."

"There's nothing we can do about these, though, right?" Natasha asked.

"I was thinking about that," Stephen told them both, seriously. "We can't stop the Infinity stone from doing whatever it wants to do, of course. From what Vision told us at the Tower, _he_ can't control it like that, either."

"Right," Tony agreed. He had a feeling Stephen had something in mind, though. "It's pretty much self-aware."

"Yes. The Time stone is as well. Like I told Vision, I wield it, and can focus its powers, but I will never truly master it."

"What about the _Mind_ stone, though?" Tony asked, impatient to hear his idea. "It won't listen to Vision if he told it to stop."

Obviously, or it would have stopped sending the crazy dreams.

"I was thinking it might listen to _Peter_ , though."

"Before or after it killed him from being so close?" Stark asked, clearly not enamored of that particular idea.

"He doesn't have to be _near_ it," Strange reminded him – and told Natasha in case she didn't know. "We could get Vision as close as is needed to get the stone where Peter can feel just the edges of it, but fat enough away that it isn't hurting him. You told me that he started feeling it around the time when you pulled off the highway, so that would give us an idea of where to start the distance."

"What makes you think it will listen to Peter?" Tony asked. "It doesn't listen to _Vision_ , and he's got the damned thing stuck in his forehead."

"The cloak listens to Peter. He connects with it at some level well beyond my connection with the thing."

They all looked at the relic, which was very carefully caressing Peter's hair, obviously not trying to wake him up, but wanting to touch him.

"It's not an Infinity stone, though, Stephen."

"No. But Vision said the thing tried to pull back once it realized it was hurting Peter. It also tried to comfort him, from what he said. He told us it isn't evil, or malicious, remember? If Peter could tell it what the visions it's sending are doing to him, it might stop _sending_ them."

"That makes sense, Tony."

"None of this makes _sense_ , Natasha," Stark snapped, immediately sorry for doing it. She certainly didn't deserve it, even though it was true, and he frowned when Peter stirred, drawn from his sleep by Tony's frustrated outburst.

They watched as he shifted a little, then looked around, first at Natasha and then rolling over to look at the two men sitting on the other side of the bed.

Stark set his coffee cup on Natasha's nightstand and reached for Peter's forehead, furious with himself for waking the boy but not showing it in the tender motion.

"Good morning."

"Hey."

"You okay?"

"Yeah."

His expression was bleak, though, and Tony knew the dream hadn't been forgotten. Not yet. It was still too fresh, an emotional wound that was very raw and close to the surface.

"It's still early," Tony murmured, softly, brushing his hand along Peter's cheek. "Go back to sleep for a little while. Okay?"

Peter hesitated, looking like he may argue that he wasn't tired, but he was. They could all see it. The cloak shifted just a little, pushing Stark's hand out of the way and started caressing the boy's cheek, its touch just as gentle as Tony's could be, and Peter closed his eyes in response to mental crooning that only he could hear. It was only moments before he was asleep again.

Tony's glance at Natasha apologized for snapping at her, and then he looked at Strange.

"I'll call Vision once we get Peter fed, and see what he thinks. If we can figure out the distance, it's worth a try."


	142. Chapter 143

They decided to let Peter sleep himself out, so it was a little later than breakfast by the time he woke up. When he _did_ , it was Natasha who was sitting beside him, propped up beside him with a few pillows and reading a book while she sat with him. Covering him and humming in his mind, the cloak was an ever present presence as well. He sighed, sleepily, and shifted, giving her plenty of warning that he was waking up long before he opened his eyes.

When he did, she put down the book and rested her hand on his cheek, making sure he wasn't fevered.

"Good morning…"

"Hi."

"Feeling better?"

He nodded. He still had that bleak expression, and his eyes were still haunted by what he'd seen, but Natasha knew that that wasn't going to be gone immediately.

"I'm sorry for the trouble I caused."

"You didn't."

He wasn't up to arguing with her, and they both knew it. Instead he sat up a little and looked around. And frowned.

"Where's my fridge?"

She smiled. Obviously he hadn't realized where he'd ended up the night before.

"I imagine it's in your room."

"Where am _I_?"

"In _mine_."

"Oh." He was quiet, and she watched his expression as he looked around again, and realized what must have happened. "Sorry."

"Stop apologizing, Peter," she told him, somewhat amused, but a little annoyed as well. Obviously none of it was his fault. He had to be able to realize that. If not, he was going to end up wallowing in unnecessary guilt. Which was not something he needed to add to the other problems he was already having. "You're okay."

"Where's everyone else?"

Obviously Strange was somewhere at hand, because the cloak was still with him, but he didn't see any sign of him or Stark.

"They're about. I'm supposed to let them know when you woke up. Feeling up to the extra company?"

"Yeah." He thought it was nice of her to ask, because he did still feel a little overwhelmed by everything that had happened.

"And breakfast?"

"No."

"We'll work on that."

She tapped her earbud and let Stark know that Peter was awake, and while she was doing that he picked up the book she had set down, curious what a secret agent read when they weren't doing secret agent things.

"Have you read it?" she asked.

He shook his head.

"I started to, but I thought it was about _mythology_ , and it turned out it isn't."

That made her smile.

" _Atlas shrugged_. I can understand that."

"Is it good?"

"It's interesting."

They discussed the book – and she asked him about books that he _had_ read – but Stark and Strange both appeared fairly soon after her call, which made them both decide that the doctor hadn't bothered to make them walk.

Tony sat on the edge of the bed, but both of them were studying him carefully.

"Hey."

"Hi."

"Feeling better?"

He nodded.

"Yeah."

Tony wasn't fooled. He still looked tired, and the hurt was still lurking in his expression. But he was willing to let it pass for now.

"Ready for some breakfast?"

Peter shook his head.

"Not really."

"You have to eat," Stark told him. "I'm not going to send you back to May a sack of skin and bones."

It was a deliberate reminder that he was going to worry May if he didn't get some weight back on him, and a calculated move on Tony's part. Strange would have threatened him with a protein shake. Stark didn't need to.

Peter reluctantly nodded.

"Okay."

"Preference?" Stephen asked.

"Oatmeal."

Stark frowned at that choice, but Natasha and the doctor both understood he was simply going for the easiest thing he could think of. Which was fine. To a point. When the tray appeared on the bed, it had oatmeal with the raisons and brown sugar, but also toast and some sausages to round it out a bit.

The Cloak of Levitation promptly moved from Peter's vicinity and found its normal place on Strange's shoulders.

"Stephen's got an interesting idea about how to solve the Infinity stone issue," Stark told him once the boy had started eating.

"I thought it couldn't be stopped?"

" _We_ can't make it stop, but it could stop if it wanted to…"

He gestured for Strange to tell Peter the plan, and watched the boy's expression as Stephen sat on the edge of the bed beside Tony and told him what he had told Stark and Natasha earlier. Peter didn't seem to be worried about the close contact with the Mind stone anywhere near as much as he was confused about what he was supposed to be doing once it was connected with him.

"How do I talk to it?" he asked.

"How do you talk to the cloak?"

"In English. Right to it."

"How does the _Mind stone_ talk to you?" Natasha asked, curiously.

"In pictures."

"Did it do that the first time, too?" Tony asked.

"Yeah. I think so."

"Just to be clear – and I know you were asleep when it started – but it didn't hurt immediately, right?" Strange asked him. "It became more intense as you approached the compound."

"I think so, yes."

"It's a lot to bet on a _think so_ ," Tony said.

"We won't do anything brash," the doctor assured him. "Probably I'll be with Peter, _with the cloak_ , and you can be with Vision, inching closer to the compound until it's at the right level – before it starts to hurt."

"Why with the cloak?" Natasha asked, curiously.

"Because it can diminish the power of the stone a bit if needed."

"Really?"

He nodded.

"It's what stopped the Time stone from doing any real damage to Peter at the Sanctum. And its reaction was a lot faster than mine. If it becomes too much for Peter, the cloak will guard him until we get Vision back a ways."

Obviously Strange had thought things through, but Natasha and Tony both knew he was methodical so that didn't surprise either of them, really.

"That's incredible," Natasha said, looking at the cloth that was hanging from Strange's collar but was clearly focused on Peter. Probably just waiting for him to be finished so it could resume its interrupted cuddling.

"When would we want to do this?" Stark asked. He was nervous about putting Peter in any danger, of course, and wasn't completely on board with the idea, yet. The fact that Peter hadn't balked at the plan helped, though.

"We'd need to set it up," the doctor told him. "Our next step is to talk to Vision and make sure he doesn't have any holes to shoot in the idea. And I want Peter to be _rested_. Right now a hard wind would blow him over – much less the power of the Mind stone."

Stark nodded, looking at Natasha and Peter.

Romanoff wasn't any happier about the idea of putting Peter at more risk than Tony was, but she also was pretty sure that it was the best solution for the problem. She nodded as well.

"Peter?"

He hadn't realized Stark was waiting for his agreement. He just assumed that was what the plan was. Another indication of his lack of experience at being part of a team. He shrugged, and nodded.

"Yes."

"Good. You finish eating and then get some rest."

"Okay."

"I want to talk to Vision face to face," Tony told Stephen. "Do you have anything planned for today that can't wait until another time?"

"I have all the time you need." He looked over at Romanoff. He was already impressed enough by her that he knew she should go with them to help make their plans, but wasn't certain that she'd be willing to leave Peter – and wasn't sure that she should.

She understood the look immediately, and shook her head.

"I'm beat, and I think I'm going to spend the day in bed," she told them all. "Or on the couch. One or the other. Maybe Peter can keep me company."

Stark and Strange weren't fooled but Peter was, and that was the one who needed to be. That way he didn't realize she was staying back to take care of him – just in case. Nightmares didn't only happen at night, after all, and sleepwalking during the day might be just as dangerous as if it happened in the evening. Maybe more.

"If you need anything, call," Tony told her – and Peter.

"We'll be fine."


	143. Chapter 144

Realizing that Peter wasn't the only one who had just woken up, Strange produced a couple more trays of breakfast for Tony and Natasha. She definitely approved of his choice of French toast and both she and Stark finished theirs before Peter had managed to choke down the last of the toast and sausage that had accompanied his oatmeal.

Not that he _wanted_ to, but he knew that it was easier to eat it than to be nagged about eating it – after which he would end up eating it anyway. He was learning.

Stark called Vision and set up a meeting at the tower, it being a good location they both knew well, and far enough away that it hadn't bothered Peter the last time and so certainly wouldn't bother him this time, either. Then he double checked with Natasha that she didn't need anything before he and Strange left.

"Movie?" she asked Peter when the two were alone.

The boy nodded, not feeling up to much of anything and pegging a movie as the easiest thing for both of them.

"You don't have anything else to do?" he asked as they walked out to the living room.

They could have just stayed in bed, but Natasha had dropped a piece of French toast, which had smeared syrup on her sheets. Better to have a clean sofa now than stick to the bedding later.

"I _do_ ," she admitted. "But I'm tired, and it can wait until later." She smiled. "Another good thing about being part of a team. If I don't do it, Clint or Steve – or almost anyone – will help me out by doing it for me. If they can."

Peter had spent so much time with Natasha by then that he had no reservation when she sat down and patted her thigh in an obvious invitation to use her as a pillow. He handed her the remote, figuring that since he was almost certainly going to fall asleep it was only fair to let her choose the movie. Then he sat down and sprawled on her sofa, resting his head on her thigh.

He felt her cover him with a blanket and then her hand came to rest on his shoulder. He didn't know why she made him feel so safe when she did that, but Peter honestly didn't think that anything could hurt him when she was with him like that.

Secure in that knowledge, he relaxed completely and was asleep before the movie even started, his hand next to his cheek on her leg and her hand absently caressing his shoulder.

Natasha watched the movie, but she was ultra-aware of what was going on around her as well, even when she was in a safe location like the compound. She hadn't lied to Peter, though. She _was_ tired. Not only because of the broken night's sleep the evening before, but spending so much time worrying about him and handling her normal schedule while spending the extra time with him was beginning to take its toll, and she knew she was beginning to wear herself a bit thin.

She wasn't too concerned, though. She'd done more with less sleep before, and she probably would again. Besides, she knew that she'd eventually have a chance to catch up. A relaxing day on the sofa _wasn't_ that time, though. Not when there was a concern about bad dreams and sleepwalking. Instead she watched the movie, using it as a distraction, and constantly monitored the body language of the boy who was sleeping beside her, just in case something happened that she needed to be ready to address.

OOOOOOOOO

" _We're heading back. Need anything from the city?"_

She was almost finished with the second movie when Stark's voice spoke into her earpiece.

Her answer was in a soft whisper, although she was sure it wasn't needed. Peter hadn't moved the entire time they'd been sitting on the sofa.

"Chicken nuggets with some barbeque sauce."

" _Peter?"_

"He's asleep."

 _"Okay."_

Ten minutes later there was a very gentle tap on her door and Strange walked in carrying a brown McDonald's bag. He smiled when he saw the two of them on the sofa and closed the door before walking over and sitting down beside her. The cloak had already made a beeline for Peter and was cautiously draping itself over the blanket that was covering him, careful not to wake him.

"Is it weird to be jealous of a fifteen year old boy?" he asked, handing her the bag.

She smiled at that.

"Probably unnecessary," she told him, opening the bag. "I think I'm in the same league as his aunt when it comes right down to it. Where's Tony?"

"Delivering a Big Mac to Pepper, and then he said he was going to go talk to Steve and Clint about tomorrow."

"What did you guys learn?"

"Vision wasn't completely against the idea," he said, taking a few French fries from the bag. "He doesn't think it will _work_ – for the same reason Peter looked uncertain about it. He doesn't know how the boy is going to tell the stone what it's doing to him and how to ask it to stop."

"It's an honest concern," she admitted, opening the nuggets and sauce. "Did he have any suggestions?"

"Nothing helpful."

"What's the plan?"

"He and Tony will meet at the tower tomorrow and will head this way. You and I will be with Peter, keeping track of how he's doing and will tell them when they need to slow down and then stop. After that, it's pretty much between Peter and the Mind stone. We'll just have to wait and see what happens."

"Which at worst will be nothing."

"That's the plan, anyway." He looked down at the boy. "Any dreams?"

"Not that I can tell. He's been out almost since you guys left."

"What are you watching?"

" _Galaxy Quest_ – but it's almost over. We could restart it."

"It's all right." Strange watched her for a moment. "You look _tired_."

"I am."

"I could watch him, you know? You can go take a nap. It's not like the cloak is going to let me go home for a while, at least."

Natasha looked down at the cloak, deciding that was probably true, but shook her head.

"He's comfortable and so am I."

"Then nap _here_. Unless you feel like making me take steps to see that you get the sleep you obviously need."

She pretended to be shocked.

"You'd _drug_ me?"

Stephen smiled, always enjoying her sardonic sense of humor when she allowed it to show.

" _That_ wasn't the option I would choose," he told her. "Take a nap, Natasha. I can watch him."

"Don't eat my nuggets."

He smirked, and she relented, closing her eyes and allowing herself to relax a bit. Enough that she fell asleep, anyway.

Strange turned off the TV, leaving the room in silence, and a moment later a book appeared in the hand that wasn't against Natasha's side. Spaceship movies were all well and good, he supposed, but he was still working on research, and a quiet afternoon was not to be wasted.


	144. Chapter 145

Stephen woke Peter up long enough to watch him eat a burger and some chips and then allowed him to go back to sleep. Which he did, dropping his head back to Natasha's thigh with a casualness that made Strange smile. Especially when her hand automatically returned to his shoulder, even in her sleep. He shifted just enough to roll over and bury his face into the sot part of her hip, and the cloak then covered him once more. Strange hadn't bothered to explain the plan for the next day to the boy, deciding that it could wait until he was more awake and coherent. No sense having to explain it twice, after all.

The result of an entire day of sleeping was that when it came time for dinner, and he woke Peter – and _Natasha_ by default – the boy was a little closer to being more like his old self, and he was able to hold his head up without looking like he was so tired he'd fall asleep at any moment. Enough so that Strange decided to get him on his feet for a while and have him eat dinner in the lounge.

Peter was a little wobbly-legged when he went over to his own quarters to freshen himself up a little, but he made it on his own. With a little encouragement from the cloak riding on his shoulders. He cleaned up, combed his hair – which definitely showed the consequences of a restless night and day asleep – and changed into jeans instead of sweats.

"Ready?" Strange asked, coming to the door with Natasha, who looked better for having had a nap, as well.

"Yeah."

He could have moved them with magic, but he wanted Peter on his feet and he wasn't worried about tiring him out, since he was going to be going back to bed fairly early if the doctor was any judge of how he looked. Which of course by now he definitely was. They walked slowly, with Strange keeping a hand under Peter's elbow to steady and support him, but they reached the lounge without incident and Stephen steered him over to the table in the corner where Tony and Pepper were waiting.

"He looks tired," Pepper murmured to Stark as the little group approached.

"He looks better than he did," Tony assured her, standing up automatically as Natasha sat down and then watching Peter settled himself in the chair next to his. Which put him in reach for Stark to lean over and run a hand along his forehead.

"Feeling better?"

He wasn't any hotter than the cloak usually made him, Stark decided, and Peter confirmed it with a nod.

"Yeah. Thanks."

The boy smiled a greeting to Pepper, who had watched the interaction with a slight smile. She loved watching Tony with Peter, although she tried very hard to hide it from both of them.

"Did you have dinner?"

"No."

"Hungry?"

"Uh, yes."

Which was probably a no, Tony decided, but a quick decision that he was going to have to eat anyway, so just say you are and get it over with. The loss of appetite was worrisome, but unless he refused to eat, Stark knew Stephen wouldn't worry about it, and they had other things to worry about that were more serious.

As the group ate a heavy meal designed to stuff Peter and make him sleepy, Stark explained the plan for the next day to Peter. Everyone else had heard it, including Pepper, but obviously they needed to make sure he knew what was going to happen. Especially when it came to deciding when close to the Mind stone was _too_ close. That was going to be on him, after all, and none of them wanted a repeat of the fever he'd just endured if they could avoid it.

Peter agreed to the plan. Not because he was just going along with it, being the youngest of the group and hardly having any experience compared to the rest of them. He didn't know what – if anything – was going to happen, and he really was more than a bit afraid to get too close to the Mind stone, but he was more afraid of the dreams, and the sadness and loss they produced, and was willing to try anything that would make them stop.

Once they made sure he understood the plan for the next day, Tony changed the subject completely. The last thing he wanted to do was dwell on what might happen, and he didn't want it worrying Peter, either. Now that he was fed, they needed to distract him until he was ready for bed, and the Avenger facility was always able to produce a distraction. Especially when Stark was in residence. The only trick in this case was making it a distraction that tired him out but didn't _wear_ him out – and kept his doctor from scowling.

So the distraction of choice that evening was Pictionary. Made even more entertaining with the addition of Banner, Clint and Steve Rogers, who had all come to the lounge looking for something to do and someone (preferably Natasha, whom they hadn't seen all day) to do it with.

They divided into teams, with Natasha, Steve, Peter and Tony taking on Strange, Clint, Banner and Pepper in a game that Clint and Banner were the only two who had actually ever played. The others learned as they went and had a pretty good time of it. Luckily for Peter's team, Natasha was an artist born, and was able to make anything with just a few quick lines, and Tony was equally adept, being an engineer and used to drawing out on paper what was in his mind. They still had trouble drawing adjectives, like fast, lonely and surprised, but the nouns were pretty easy for the most part.

It was late before they realized it, and Strange had resorted to simply waving a hand and having a picture of a boat appear instead of actually drawing it, justifying this blatant cheating by telling Tony to find anywhere in the rule book that said he _couldn't_ use magic to make the picture. Which started an argument disguised as a conversation about how everything was _implied_ – which reminded Peter a lot of the evening the two men had helped him with his homework.

Pepper finally settled the argument by telling everyone it was time to get some sleep.

They dispersed without complaint, all of them in a good mood, and it was Tony and Stephen who walked Peter back to his quarters, flanking him as they usually did but continuing the debate on the use of magic in the game. Peter didn't mind; he thought it was amusing, and privately thought that if Strange _really_ had wanted to cheat, he'd have been a lot more subtle about it. He decided he was just doing it to annoy Mr. Stark, which had worked perfectly, of course.

They were both serious though as they walked him into his rooms.

"Do you want me to stay?" Strange asked Stark, sitting on the arm of Peter's sofa.

"No," Tony told him. "I want you rested and on your game tomorrow. I appreciate it, though."

He did, too. Arguing was all in good fun for Stark, and Stephen had become one of his favorite people to do it with, but in the end it wasn't serious. And their plan for the next day was.

Strange looked at Peter, and the cloak transferred itself over to the doctor's collar.

"Get some sleep, okay?"

"Yeah."

He vanished, and Tony looked around the room.

"I could sack out on your couch…"

Which was his way of asking Peter if he needed him to stay in case of a dream. Which the boy appreciated and was tempted by, but shook his head.

"You should get some sleep, too," he pointed out, using the same reasoning that Stark had used with Strange. "I'll be okay."

"If anything happens, you call."

"I will."

"I _mean_ it, Peter."

"I _will_."

"Don't worry about tomorrow, okay? I'm not going to let anything happen."

"I know."

Even though he was trying to hide it, it was clear to Peter that _he_ was decidedly worried about tomorrow, but his voice was steady even though his expression was anxious.

"Get some sleep."

He pulled Peter into a hug that lasted a lot longer than he'd probably planned, but Peter didn't mind because he needed the support that Stark was offering as much as Tony needed to give it. When Stark finally stepped back, he tousled Peter's hair, once more trying to lighten the situation.

"It'll be fine," he said, and he left.

Peter sat on the arm of his sofa, trying not to think of the next day. Once more he looked at the pile of homework and thought it would be a good distraction, but he decided to just go to bed.


	145. Chapter 146

Morning found Peter in his own bed and with no memory of any bad dreams. He didn't know if it was because he was just too tired for sleepwalking – he didn't know how _that_ worked anyway – or if he hadn't done it because he didn't have any dreams. He hadn't done it every night when he'd been little, so maybe it had just been a one or two time occurrence. Whatever the reason, he was alone in his bed and he definitely felt like he'd had some sleep. For a change. It was very early, but he wasn't tired enough to go back to sleep, so he decided he might as well get up and start his day.

He got out of bed and dressed, but then returned to his window, looking out over the field as he gave himself a chance to wake up a little more. The day was just barely starting, with only the palest of light in the eastern sky yet, and the field was empty – including empty of any deer grazing nearby. An ordinary enough day, but he was well aware of what he was going to be facing in just a few hours and he couldn't help the feeling of dread that came over him at the thought.

Peter knew he needed to not let his thoughts go down that path or he'd just worry himself into a frenzy, so he opened the fridge in his room and made a face when he saw it was half filled with protein shakes, which was not something he was going to eat without someone shoving it down him. Instead he pulled an apple and went out into the living room area and flopped down on the sofa, picking up the remote and turning on the TV. He wasn't in the mood to start a movie, and didn't feel like video games or anything, so he just flipped through the channels, looking in vain for anything to distract him. He didn't find anything but news shows and infomercial so he turned off the TV and looked at the stack of homework.

Nope.

Restless, he got up and left his quarters. He'd go to the lounge and play chess with himself, or find something there to occupy himself. Anything but sit around and fixate on the day to come and how he was going to try and convince some space stone to leave him alone. He was still wobbly enough that he wasn't able to move quickly, but he barely needed the hold that he had on the wall, except for when he was on the stairs.

He was turning the last corner to the lounge when he became aware that someone was coming. The sound of footsteps followed right on that realization and he turned to look just as Tony Stark came rushing around the corner ahead of him with a very concerned expression on his face. He was wearing sweats, a t-shirt and no shoes. Peter stopped, wondering what had happened, and Stark frowned when he saw him and stopped as well.

"Are you okay?"

Peter nodded.

"Yeah. What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

Tony was clearly looking him over, though, as if he'd expected to find something terrible happening. The worry in his expression turned to relief, and then annoyance.

"What are you _doing_?"

"Going to the lounge."

"What for?"

"I woke up and couldn't go back to sleep. There's nothing on TV, so I thought I'd go play chess or something."

Stark rolled his eyes

"You're going to drive me _crazy_."

"What?"

"Nothing. Go to the lounge. I'm going to get dressed and I'll meet you there for breakfast."

Completely confused, Peter nodded.

"Okay."

Stark turned and left, shaking his head and mumbling to himself, and Peter watched until he had turned the corner and continued to the lounge.

OOOOOOO

Pepper looked up when Tony returned, looking annoyed.

"Is everything all right?"

Stark scowled.

"Yes."

"Was he sleepwalking?"

"No. He was _bored_ so he was going to the lounge to find something to do."

She smiled.

"I _warned_ you…"

"I know."

"But you wanted to make sure Friday told you if he so much as poked his nose out of his quarters – just in case."

"Pepper…"

"I'm just _saying_ …"

He'd startled her when Friday had woke them, telling Stark that Peter was moving in the corridors and no longer in his quarters. He'd lurched from the bed and rushed out after being told where he was. She had to admit that she had been worried too, but she _had_ asked him when he'd set up the initial alert with Friday what if it was just Peter going for a midnight snack, or a midnight stroll. He'd told her better safe than sorry, and had finished setting the system alert.

"I know. And you were _right_. But I am, too. I'd rather chase him down and find out that he's okay than have him hurt himself."

She wrapped her arms around him and kissed him.

"Did he have any bad dreams?"

"We didn't get that far."

He sighed, and hugged her, resting his chin on the top of her head for a moment, his good humor restored by her touch.

"I'm going to get dressed and meet him in the lounge."

"I'll be there in a little while."

Not too soon, though. It was still early.

OOOOOOOOO

Peter was sitting at the table playing both sides of the chessboard when Stark appeared. The cook who ran the bar and the kitchen in the morning was somewhere in the back, working on prepping for breakfast with a helper, but otherwise the place was empty. It was almost too early for breakfast.

Tony walked over and sat down, his glance appeared casual but he was carefully checking Peter for any indication that all was not as it seemed. As near as he could tell, though, the boy didn't seem distraught or even more than just a little tired. But not too tired to keep him from wandering the halls in the wee hours of the morning. He glanced at the chess game, wondering how anyone could play chess alone, when it would be too easy to make yourself the winner. There were a lot of black pieces on the side of the board, and only a few white pawns out of play.

"How did you sleep?" he asked, resisting the urge to play the white pawn and take the black knight. It was probably just a trap to get him to lose the tower in some sneaky chess massacre.

"Pretty good, I think."

"No dreams?"

"Not that I remember."

"You just woke up on your own?"

"Yeah. Too much sleeping yesterday, I guess. You?"

He couldn't help himself; he played the white pawn and took the black knight. Peter smiled and took the pawn.

"I slept fine."

Just a few scary moments when he'd wake up worrying that Peter had wandered off and somehow Friday had missed it. Pepper had managed to lull him back to sleep each time, but it definitely hadn't been a solid night's sleep. He moved his bishop and the boy immediately took it with his queen.

"Checkmate."

" _Seriously_? You're killing me, kid."

"We could play _Gin_ ," Peter offered. He didn't care if he won or lost, he just wanted the company.

Tony scowled, feigning annoyance but secretly pleased that the boy was so good. He stood up, resting his hand on Peter's head for a moment.

"I'm going to go get us some breakfast. Set them up, and we'll try it again."

It would be another good distraction for both of them – and there was no way he could keep losing. Fury was right. _Anyone_ could be beaten. It was just a matter of trying.


	146. Chapter 147

" _How are you doing, Peter?"_

Tony's voice was tinny and also slightly muffled by him being in the Ironman suit, but there was no mistaking the concern. They all heard it, too, since Stark was using the broad communication and not just speaking to Peter.

"I'm fine."

He didn't reply to Tony. That was the whole point of using the open channel. Peter was sitting on a sofa in the lounge, which was empty. Strange was right beside him, ready to transfer them as far away as needed if it came to that. Natasha was seated on the other side of him, and she was the one who actually relayed his reply – and would relay anything else needed. Peter had his eyes closed, his job only to make sure to tell someone what he was feeling. Draped on his shoulders was the cloak, and even the relic seemed to be tense as it waited with the others, not even distracting Peter with its usual petting or mental caresses.

"He's fine, Tony."

" _We're about seven miles out."_

Tony was in the Ironman suit for several reasons. The first was that since Vision could fly there was no reason for them to drive a car and inch their way toward the compound that way, when flying would get them there faster – and get them out of the way faster as well if things went bad. Another reason was that the suit could calculate their distance to feet, or even inches, and Tony wanted a record of what the extremes were for the Mind stone. Last of all, once they got closer, the suit would be able to monitor Peter's vitals also, and would let Stark know if something was happening – on the off chance Stephen, Natasha and Peter all missed it somehow.

"Okay."

At six miles, Vision and Stark stopped again.

" _We're at six."_

"I don't feel anything," Peter said.

"We're still okay here," Natasha answered.

The scene was repeated at five miles and then at four miles out, each time Ironman and Vision would stop and hover, waiting for a status update.

"Slower, now," Tony cautioned Vision. "We're getting to the point Peter started feeling it last time."

"I can feel the stone," Vision told him. "It's reaching for him."

They hesitated another moment, but Stark knew the stone could reach Peter from the other side of the planet. It wasn't the stone's touch that was the problem. It was the proximity. He led the way and they moved about a quarter of a mile.

"I feel something," Peter said, frowning. He didn't open his eyes.

"Pain?" Strange asked, quickly.

"No. A tingle. Like the cloak."

"Hold there a minute, Tony," Natasha ordered, looking at Peter as well.

"Closer," Peter said, trying to focus on what he was feeling. At the moment, it was just what he said. The same kind of magical tingle that the Cloak of Levitation gave off when it was nearby.

"Closer," Natasha said.

" _Are you sure?"_

"Yes."

"Peter says yes."

Another quarter of a mile and Peter's expression changed. The tingle was full blown, now. A pressure he could feel inside his head, but not necessarily pain. Just on the edge of it, maybe.

"Stop."

"Stop," Natasha repeated.

" _Is he okay?"_

"Yeah."

"He says he is."

" _Stephen?"_

"He's fine."

Strange was monitoring Peter's vitals with standard equipment that he'd simply hooked to the boy when the experiment started. If anything spiked too quickly, he'd get himself and Peter out of the way. At the moment, the vitals were slightly elevated, but nothing out of range.

"He's okay."

An image. A darkness so pure that nothing could be seen. A single voice – Peter couldn't tell if it was inside his head or coming from someone around him. Then a flash of light so bright it would have blinded him if he'd actually seen it with his eyes. Now he could see stars. Brilliant lights that only got brighter as they grew. Planets forming around them, some exploding, some meandering in wobbly orbits as they found their places.

He felt the weight of a presence in his mind. It was similar to the way the cloak would share its emotions with him when it had something to tell him, but far more powerful. He could feel its curiosity and knew immediately that it wanted to know more about him. Why _he_ could feel it when others couldn't – or hadn't. What made him different from the multitudes of others that it had encountered. There had been a few since the beginnings of its own memories. But very few, and none in an amount of time so vast it had no meaning to Peter.

It hesitated, and Peter understood then that it didn't want to hurt him and was now aware that it _could_. It had known that he was in pain the last time it had physically encountered him and had tried to soothe, not realizing at the time that it was only making things worse. This time it understood, and it waited.

"Peter?"

"Yeah."

He wasn't replying to Natasha, though. He was answering the unspoken request in his mind. It wanted to learn about him, and it was asking him to allow it to do just that. The only way it knew how. The instant he spoke, the stone felt his agreement and he felt it literally in his mind, sifting through his thoughts, his feelings and his memories at a speed that made him gasp.

"Back off a little, Tony," Natasha said, watching Peter's expression tighten.

The cloak slowly slid itself around the boy, but there wasn't anything urgent in its motions as there had been when it had saved Peter from the Time stone's power. This time it was just providing a gentle buffer, to ease the shock of what the stone was doing as it learned about the boy.

And then it learned what it was doing to him with the memories it had been sharing.

Peter felt a surge of disquiet that would have hurt him if not for the cloak providing the cushioning that it was.

A consternation that even Vision felt. He gasped, surprised at the sudden surge, and Stark reached for him in alarm, holding him in place when he seemed to be faltering.

"What is it?"

"The stone."

"Do we move?"

"No."

" _What's happening, guys?"_ Tony asked, his suit only telling him that Peter's temperature was rising, and his heartbeat and blood pressure were up, but not dangerously so.

"His vitals are okay," Stephen said, and Natasha passed it on.

"Peter…"

"It's okay…"

Again the whispered reply wasn't to the people in the room with him. The stone was remorseful and Peter could feel it. As clearly as if the thing had apologized in English, whispering it in his ear. Peter knew none of the pain or sadness had been intentional, and it was in his nature to automatically exculpate and to try to make things right. He'd never held a grudge in his life, and couldn't start now. Even with all the terrible things he'd seen. All the death and destruction.

Another image. Meant to soothe. Perhaps meant to make him understand that death was only part of life. A woman giving birth. Far too graphic for him to want to see, and one he hadn't expected. He gagged, and the image was banished, replaced with a memory of his own. One he didn't remember, but the stone had no trouble finding.

His mother, reaching down and picking him up, swooping him into her arms with a smile that was only for him, and then handing him over to his father, who held him tightly, pressing his bearded cheek against his own.

Peter felt a surge of loss that left him reeling and was only vaguely aware of the confusion coming from the stone. It was trying to find the right scene and didn't understand him enough to do it.

Another image. May holding a puppy. When it didn't feel an adverse reaction, the image was replaced with Tony Stark holding a puppy as well. And then Natasha and Strange being overrun by curly-haired puppies. Finally an entire pack of puppies swarming over him and cuddling with him until they all fell asleep with him in the middle of the pile, almost asleep as well.

 _Now_ it was beginning to understand him. It didn't understand loss in the same way Peter knew it, and it didn't recognize sorrow, except for the reaction it felt from the boy. But it was figuring out what made him happy, and what he loved most, and what appealed to him. It wasn't there yet, but it was learning.

The presence pulled back, though. Peter was distracted by what he was seeing, but the cloak had tightened its grip on the boy as the Mind stone sought more memories to smother the pain it had inadvertently caused.

"Back up, Tony," Natasha said, reading Peter's expression perfectly. Even with his eyes closed, she'd had no problem seeing the progression of emotions playing across his face, and that was fine until it was pain she saw, and the cloak seemed to agree.

Ironman and Vision shot back half a mile, and the presence faded almost completely as it realized it had tried to reach too hard and hurt him again. It knew him, now, though, and it didn't need the physical contact. The pain ebbed, and then the pressure that replaced it was gone as well, until all he felt was himself and a very gentle croon coming from the cloak.

"Peter?"

His hands came up to his face, blocked a bit by the cloak, but he didn't open his eyes. He felt wiped out and hot.

"It's gone."

"Did it work?" Strange asked, reaching over and resting a hand on the boy's forehead, confirming what the machines were telling him, and checking for fever. He was burning hot again, but his heart rate and BP were already resuming their normal levels.

"I don't know."

"We're done, Tony," Natasha reported.

" _I'll be right there."_

Stark only stopped long enough to get Vision's take on what little he had felt coming from the Mind stone and any suggestions he might have for their next step. Vision wasn't really one to stick around if he wasn't needed, though, and Tony was anxious to check on Peter so it wasn't long before he was headed back to the compound.

"What did you see?" Strange asked Peter, the wet cloth appearing in his hand so he could start dealing with the fever.

Before he could tell it to, the Cloak of Levitation moved itself from Peter over to Natasha, who was incrementally further from the boy than Strange. It didn't _want_ to, of course, but it was aware that it caused the boy discomfort when he was already hot.

"I don't know… _Everything_ …"

Natasha looked up as Stark entered the lounge, the Ironman suit gone and concern in every step he took as he headed for the trio on the sofa and knelt in front of Peter, his gaze going from the boy to Strange and back again as he rested his hand on Peter's cheek.

"How is he?"

"Overwhelmed," the doctor answered. "Let's get him to his room. I want to nip the fever before it gets the upper hand."


	147. Chapter 148

Peter didn't say a word as Strange moved them all to his quarters. His eyes were closed against the confusion in his mind, and he was having a hard time keeping track of what was going on around him. They pulled his shirt and shoes off and propped him upright in his bed, resting him against Stark, who had taken the wet towel from Strange, already working on cooling the fever. The doctor had expressed it just right. He was overwhelmed and trying to process what had happened and what he'd seen.

"Peter?"

Tony wasn't patient enough to allow _too_ much time for him to regroup. He needed to reassure himself that there hadn't been any lasting harm, and he couldn't do that unless Peter was talking to him.

"Yeah…"

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah."

"Open your eyes and tell me that."

The boy did what he was told, and when he did he saw all three of them watching him intently, worry evident in their expressions.

"I'm okay."

 _Mostly_.

"Did it hurt you?"

"Just at the end, when it got too excited."

"What?"

"Tony," Strange held up a hand to stop the interrogation. "Let's take it slowly, all right?"

"Yeah. Sorry."

He _was_ , too. He was just worried.

"Start at the beginning, Peter… whatever you can remember."

He _remembered_ it, but it was all so confusing. He closed his eyes again, and in an increasingly faltering voice he told them what he could, describing the scenes that the stone had shown him as well as he remembered and the best way he could describe somethings that he'd never actually seen before. And others that he _had_ , but hadn't remembered.

For their part, they were silent during his narration, although Tony's grip on him tightened almost painfully when he told them about the scene with his parents, his throat tightening at a memory that he had been too young to recall on his own but had been so vivid that it hurt just as much to _describe_ it as it had when he'd seen it.

"I don't think it was _trying_ to hurt me," he said, finally reaching the end of what he could remember and the end of his strength. Even just laying there, he was exhausted, beaten down by the fever and the mental distress of the experience. "I _know_ it wasn't before, because it seemed to be apologizing…"

""I wish we knew what it was going to do next…" Strange said, leaning back in the chair he'd summoned for himself, the Cloak of Levitation draped around his shoulders. Natasha, of course, had perched herself on the edge of Peter's bed, using a piece of paper as a fan to cool the skin Stark was wetting down. They weren't going to take any chances with the fever.

"There really isn't any way to tell," she said. "If Peter got the message through, maybe it'll leave him alone."

"Or at least stop sending the more _disturbing_ images," the doctor added. "We'll have to wait and see."

"Which means you need to let us know if you have any more dreams," Tony reminded Peter, who still hadn't opened his eyes, but nodded his understanding.

"How do you feel, Peter?" Strange asked.

"Tired."

Which wasn't surprising. He _sounded_ tired.

Natasha reached over and brushed her hand against his cheek.

"We should let you get some sleep…"

He opened his eyes, catching her hand with his.

"Please don't leave me alone…"

"You're not going to _be_ alone," Stark promised him. Not after that.

Natasha squeezed his hand, bringing it up to her cheek. He looked so young just then, and so very vulnerable.

"I can stay."

He wanted to tell her he didn't need her to, but he couldn't.

"Just for a little while? Please?"

"For as long as you need," she promised him.

Peter closed his eyes again, but Natasha didn't let go of his hand. Within minutes he was asleep.

"Rough day," Strange said.

"He's had his share of them lately," Tony agreed.

"I'm going back to the Sanctum," the doctor told them, standing up. "Unless you want me to take over?"

"No. I've got it."

Which was the reply Strange had expected.

"I'll be back to check on him later this evening. If he wakes up, make him eat something. Don't let those tired puppy dog eyes of his talk you out of it."

"Okay."

"I mean it."

He was well aware that the boy was going to tell them that he wasn't hungry and they would almost certainly hem and haw about feeding him until he fell back to sleep and made the whole issue moot.

"I'll feed him, Stephen" Stark promised.

Strange looked at Natasha, who nodded.

"We'll make sure that he eats."

"Good. Do what you need to in order to keep him as cool as possible, but if the fever breaks don't let him get chilled." His gaze lingered on Peter for another moment, and then he looked back at them. "If anything comes up, call me."

He and the cloak vanished.

Tony smiled over at Natasha, who settled herself beside Peter, stretching out next to him but not touching him to avoid adding her body heat to his discomfort.

"You _know_ he wanted to stay, right?"

"Oh, yeah."

But if Strange stayed, then the _cloak_ would have as well, and the magical energy the thing gave off would have hampered Peter's recovery – and the doctor knew it.

"That old _softie_ …"

She snorted, indelicately, and with the hand that wasn't still holding Peter's she reached for the remote from his bedside.

"Movie?"

"Sounds good."

OOOOOOOOOO

Wong found Strange in the library not much later. He wasn't really _reading_ the book on the table in front of him, he was just brooding. The cloak was still attached to his collar and occasionally it would run a corner against his cheek, or ruffle his hair – probably just to remind him that it was there, but he thought it might be keeping him company as well. Which he appreciated.

"How did it go?"

The doctor shrugged, and gave him a summary of what Peter had told them.

"He connected with it – which had been the whole idea. Now we wait to see how it reacts to what it learned."

"And Peter?"

"Fevered and tired."

"He's going to need a vacation when this is all over."

"I know."

"Did you discuss the magic block spell with Stark?"

"No. he's had other things to worry about. It can wait until the stress level is lower."

"Think he'll go for it?"

"Not a chance in hell."

"Me, either." They were quiet for a moment. "Lunch?"

"Sure."


	148. Chapter 149

_The dreams weren't anything new. The same scenes of planets forming, finding their orbits and cycling through their systems with the unending patience that only something with a lifetime in the billions of years can have. This time, though, it was a scene without the destructive explosions that he'd become accustomed to seeing as the larger planets dominated the orbital routes and destroyed the smaller ones in the way before they could completely form._

 _It was peaceful to watch, really, and he allowed himself to relax, rather than tense as he waited for the inevitable devastation that he had been certain was coming._

 _Soothing to watch, and rather pretty with all the colors swirling in the planets that were gas only. There wasn't a sign of life, but the promise was there and that was comforting to his battered spirit. He watched as moons formed around the planets, but the explosions that had provided the material were conspicuously absent. Some of them were huge. And they would sustain life eventually. Again, it was nothing but peaceful, and when Peter woke up, it was without dread, and almost a reluctance to leave the scene, assuming that the next dream wouldn't be nearly as calming._

"He's waking up, Tony…"

 _That_ was Natasha. Without opening his eyes he already knew that she was the one holding him, and she was probably the one with the wet cloth that was wiping a cool swath along his face, chest and belly. He was comfortable, and didn't hurt, and was almost asleep again when he felt a hand press against his cheek, pulling him back to wakefulness.

He opened his eyes, sleepily. Tony Stark was leaning over him, his expression concerned as it always seemed to be lately. It made Peter feel guilty, because he knew _he_ was the reason for it, and he didn't know how to make everything better.

"Hey," Tony said, his hand sliding from the boy's cheek to his forehead, testing for any change in the fever. He was pleased that Peter didn't have that glazed look in his eyes that normally accompanied the fever. He just looked tired, which was pretty much the norm, lately.

"Hi."

"How do you feel?"

"Cold."

Stark frowned, touching Peter's cheek again. He felt Natasha's hand come to his other cheek, also.

"You're not."

"Okay."

He closed his eyes again, too tired to argue. Really, just too tired for anything.

"Since you're awake, let's get you fed," Tony told him.

"I'm not hungry."

Stark smiled over at Natasha, who echoed it and shook her head, amused. Right on schedule. Strange had Peter figured out, that was certain.

"You need to eat something before you go back to sleep."

Peter opened his eyes.

"I'm _tired_."

"I don't believe it," Tony said, looking over Peter at Romanoff, his smile widening. "He _does_ have tired puppy dog eyes."

Peter didn't even ask him what he was talking about, but the comment made Natasha chuckle for some reason.

"I told Stephen we'd have you eat when you woke up," Stark told him. "So you need to eat."

"Don't tell him I woke up."

"Or… you could do as you're _told_ and eat something."

Peter rolled a little, looking up at Romanoff hopefully.

"Natasha?"

She almost squealed in delight. He was trying to play one of them off of the other! Obviously not _purposely_ ; he was way too out of it to be that devious, which made it even more adorable. She'd never actually used the tactic herself, and wondered where in the world he'd learned it, since he had been raised by a single woman and there wasn't anyone to play against May. Maybe it was something he'd used with his parents when he'd been very young. Whatever it was, she had to hide her amusement. Instead, she leaned over and pressed a kiss against his eyebrow – which was as far as she could reach holding him like she was.

"I promised him, too," she murmured into his ear. "You wouldn't make a liar out of me, would you?"

He sighed, a world of exhaustion in that one sound, but also acceptance. He wouldn't do anything to disappoint her.

"No."

"Good."

"Protein shake?" Stark suggested.

Peter shook his head.

"Anything else."

Leaving him in Natasha's capable arms, Tony went to Peter's fridge and opened it.

"Cheese and crackers?"

"Yeah."

"Natasha?"

"Yes."

There was also plenty of sandwich meat, so he pulled that out as well. Cheese and crackers, ham and turkey to round it out. He piled it all on the tray and brought it over to the bed for a communal snack. A beer for himself – and another for Natasha when she nodded – and a cola for Peter, who forced himself awake with some effort and sat up a little more to free Natasha to eat.

"How do you feel?" she asked him, now that she was able to watch his expression when he answered.

"I'm okay."

He wondered how much cheese and meat would constitute a meal to them, but found that once he started eating, he _was_ hungry, and reached for some crackers.

"Any bad dreams?" Tony asked.

"No. I don't think so."

"Good."

Stark resumed the movie that they'd been watching when Peter woke up, but he and Natasha were both watching him carefully, pleased by the fact that he seemed to have an appetite and they weren't going to have to nag him to eat.

"Where's Doctor Strange?"

"He went to the sanctum. He'll check in later, though."

"We want to keep your fever from getting the upper hand like it did last time," Natasha told him, once again checking his forehead. He was still hot, but she thought maybe less so than he had been earlier. "If he had stayed the cloak would want to hang out with you and that wouldn't help with the fever."

"Yeah."

Peter ate a few more crackers, absently watching the movie as he did, but he was done; his exhaustion taking precedence to his waning appetite now that he had something in his stomach. Tony pulled the cola from the tray before it could be spilled and gestured to Natasha that he'd trade her places and hold him for a while to give her a break. Peter fell asleep as they swapped spots, a cracker still in his hand as Stark gathered him into his arms and took the wet cloth from Romanoff. She also handed him the remote.

"Are you good for a while?"

"Yeah, we'll be fine."

"Need anything?"

"No. Although you might make sure Pepper knows where I am."

"I'm sure she does, but I'll check in with her for you."

"Thanks."

"Call me if he wakes up. I'll help you talk him into eating again."

"Sounds good."

He shooed her out of the room, knowing that she would be willing stay all day if she thought he needed her to and wanting her to have a break and get a chance to stretch her legs and take care of anything she might need to do. Then he shifted just enough to get Peter in a more comfortable position and started wiping him off with the cloth once more.


	149. Chapter 150

It was starting to get dark outside Peter's bedroom window when Strange's arrival at the compound was heralded by the sudden appearance of the Cloak of Levitation, which startled Tony when it came swooping into the room and paused at the edge of the bed, hovering. It obviously wanted to join Peter on the bed, but apparently knew it wouldn't be for the best if it did. Stark looked at it, and then toward the doorway, knowing that Stephen couldn't be far behind.

Sure enough, he walked through the door only a moment later.

Strange walked over, brushing past the cloak and sitting on the edge of the bed. Tony was still holding Peter mostly upright in his arms, and still had the wet towel in his hand.

"Has he been awake?" Strange asked, reaching over and brushing a hand against the boy's forehead.

"Yes. About three hours ago."

"The fever is down."

"I thought so, too, but I wasn't sure if it was just wishful thinking on my part."

"No. It's definitely down."

"That's good."

"Yes."

Obviously the immediate and determined care Natasha and Tony gave the boy had had the intended results, and Strange was relieved. Peter wasn't ready to do much, but the first hurdle and biggest danger – the fever – was under control.

"You fed him?'

"Yes."

"And he didn't want to eat."

"He said he wasn't hungry, but he ended up eating more than I expected. I think it's not so much that he doesn't have an appetite, I think he's just too tired to care about eating. Once we got him upright and eating, he did okay until he fell asleep on us."

"You're probably right."

Peter stirred, either in response to the voices, or maybe the magical energy the cloak was giving off – or maybe because he was just ready to wake up for a while. Whatever the reason, he moved slightly and then opened his eyes, looking around sleepily before dropping his head back to Tony's chest, but still watching them.

The cloak couldn't contain itself and moved to cover him, wrapping around Peter's head and Stark's arms. Tony looked at Strange, worried, but the doctor shrugged.

"It shouldn't be an issue – as long as his temperature doesn't go up. We'll keep an eye on things." He looked at Peter, who looked more awake, but was definitely distracted by the cloak. "How do you feel?"

"Okay. _Tired_."

"Hungry?"

"No."

"Any dreams?"

"Yeah. Nothing bad, though, just planets."

"Planets?"

The boy shrugged.

"Yeah. Just a bunch of planets. I dreamed it before. It's not scary – until they start colliding and killing everything on them."

"Did they?" Stark asked.

"Not this time. They just were _there_ , doing their planet things."

"What is a _planet thing_?" Tony asked, frowning.

"I don't know," Peter admitted. "They just sit there, I guess."

"As long as they're doing their planet thing and not anything more terrible than that, I'm fine with it," Strange told them both. "Try to keep track of what you're dreaming of though, if you can remember them."

"Okay."

"Let's get you up and get you fed."

"I'm-"

 _"Not hungry_ ," Strange finished. "Yes, I know. Regardless, _you_ need to have a solid meal, and I need to see you eat it. I want you out of bed for a little while, also."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Tony asked, clearly not enamored of the idea of Peter getting up just yet.

"Yes. Don't worry, Tony, we won't go further than his sofa."

Strange offered Peter his hand and with a tired sigh the boy took it and allowed himself to be helped to his feet, where he stood trembling for just a moment while he regained his balance, with the doctor holding him steady and the Cloak of Levitation crooning in his mind encouragingly as it hovered beside him.

"You okay?" Stark asked, coming to his side and putting a hand under his elbow.

"Yeah."

To prove it he took a couple of unsteady steps toward the living room, both men holding him upright as he did so. By the time he'd walked to the sofa, though, he was a bit steadier. He dropped down onto it with another tired sigh, and rubbed his face as the cloak draped itself over his bare shoulders and Tony sat down beside him. Strange settled himself on the coffee table in front of him.

"Are you dizzy at all?"

"No."

"Headaches?"

"No. I'm okay."

"Good."

The doctor didn't ask him what he wanted for dinner. Instead he moved to sit on the other side of Peter and the makings for sandwiches appeared on a plate in front of them. There were also bags of chips, a vegetable tray, a plate of various snack cakes and an assortment of drinks. It wasn't an elegant meal, but with the fever the boy was running, Strange knew he'd rather not eat something warm and heavy.

"What did you do today?" Tony asked curiously as they put their sandwiches together.

"Just did some work in the library."

"Dusting?"

Peter snickered, which made both men smile, and Stark winked at the boy. Strange rolled his eyes, but was far more amused than annoyed.

"Research."

"On what?"

"Your comment about making magic work with tech – like linking a portal to the GPS in the watches, that kind of thing."

"Oh?" Now Stark was more than a little interested. "What did you find?"

"Nothing, yet. It's something that would take a lot more study – and I have to admit I'm not that familiar with the tech."

"The tech is the _simple_ part."

"Not necessarily. And before I could try to integrate something with a spell, I'd need to understand every part of the concept."

"Which part don't you understand?"

"The _tech_ part."

"For the watches? Or the GPS?"

That started a conversation that required Strange to summon several pieces of paper and pens, so Stark could explain the basic concepts of the functioning GPS in the watches that all of the Avengers – and Peter and Strange, now – wore. Tony drew designs and graphs, becoming more animated as the conversation continued, and as he became more familiar with the technology involved, Strange's questions became more and more complex, until the two were almost arguing once again over whether something could be achieved linking magic and technology.

Of course, Strange had to try to explain how magic worked to Stark as well, and that produced a whole new conversation about what was and what wasn't possible.

Peter listened to them idly and wolfed down a couple of sandwiches, most of the vegetable tray and all of the snack cakes. They, of course, were completely ignoring their own dinners – and him. He didn't mind, though. It was fascinating to him to watch the two, even though he had to admit that he wasn't really following the conversation. He was smart, but they were way beyond him just then.

With a full stomach and the cloak wrapped around him keeping him warm, he leaned back against the sofa and listened to them, giving up on understanding the conversation completely and just closing his eyes and listening to their voices, not the words.

Eventually he fell asleep again, and the only dream he could remember was that someone picked him up and put him to bed, and the slightly coarse sensation of facial hair pressing gently against his cheek for a moment. He sighed, rolled over and went back to sleep.


	150. Chapter 151

It was morning when Peter woke. He didn't open his eyes immediately, but as always his other senses told him what was going on around him before he really needed to. While he was waking up there had been a muted humming in his mind that escalated to a cheerful buzz once he was fully awake, accompanied by a gentle caress along his face and jawline.

That told him the cloak was near at hand, of course, which made him assume that Doctor Strange was, as well. He didn't feel anyone else around him, though, and when he opened his eyes he saw that aside from the cloak he was alone in his bed. He lay quietly for a moment, allowing himself a chance to wake up completely while the cloak continued to hum at him and caress him.

He felt _hot_. Not dreadfully so, but more than just the warmth caused by having the magical relic near at hand. He wasn't so hot that he was uncomfortable though, and figured the cloak wouldn't be cuddling him if there was any concern that it was making things worse. Adding that to the fact that he was _alone_ , he figured that they must have decided that the fever wasn't too bad and he didn't need constant monitoring.

He sighed, debating going back to sleep for a while, or getting up. The cloak was clearly on the side of him going back to sleep, but Peter itched and thought that maybe a shower would cool him off a little. It would certainly feel good. He rolled over and dragged himself out of bed before he could change his mind and went to the dresser for some clean clothes.

There was light coming in his window and looking out as he passed by, he saw that it was going to be a cloudy, rainy day. The rain was pouring down, the wind beating it against his window in short gusts. He looked at his watch and found it was earlier than he had thought, but he was used to getting up early at home so it probably wasn't that surprising. Besides, he'd slept most of the day before.

Walking out into the living room he paused. The place was a disaster. His own pile of unfinished homework had been joined by a haphazard mountain of papers with sketches, equations and diagrams of all sorts, the remains of their dinner from the night before, and snack cake wrappers scattered all over.

Stephen Strange was asleep on one side of his sofa, head resting on the arm of it, while the other side had Tony Stark sprawled in the remaining space, a pillow under his head and a pen still in his hand. Neither woke when he entered the room, and Peter frowned, wondering how late they'd stayed up arguing over the tech for the watches and portals.

He didn't wake them, figuring they needed the sleep – they certainly deserved a chance to get some rest rather than fuss over him. He just headed for the bathroom, with the cloak now hovering nearby instead of wrapped around him. It didn't plan on showering with him but wasn't willing to abandon him just yet, either. Not when it had him all to itself.

When he came out of the bathroom a short time later, they were still asleep. Dressed in jeans, a t-shirt and feeling much better, he simply stopped long enough to grab up his shoes and left the two sleeping.

OOOOOOOOOO

Natasha was in the lounge when Peter entered, the cloak draped over his shoulders, but unwilling to touch his still damp hair. She was sitting at a table with Steve and Clint, and they all waved him over when he hesitated, uncertain if they were talking about secret, official Avenger topics and might not want company just then. He noticed that all three were dressed in flight suits.

"Good morning," Steve said, pushing the empty chair beside him out for Peter to take. "How are you feeling?"

"Good. Thanks."

Natasha was close enough to him that she reached her hand out and brushed it along his forehead and cheek and Clint had to hide his amusement at seeing her make such an automatic maternal gesture. He liked his hide, after all, and knew she'd flay him if he teased her.

"Your fever's down," she said, ignoring Clint.

"Yeah. I feel okay."

"Where's Tony?" Steve asked, curiously. He had to admit he was a little surprised that Stark wasn't close at hand, keeping an eye on the boy. Especially after the events of the day before.

"On my couch, sleeping."

"And Stephen?" Natasha asked, knowing that if the cloak was with Peter then Strange must still be in the facility.

"He's asleep, too."

"Good. Then we get you to ourselves for a while."

Peter smiled at that.

"We're going to Seattle today," Steve told him.

"You know, to get away from the rain," Barton added.

"In the jet?" Peter asked.

"Yep."

"Want to come?" Natasha asked.

"Can I?"

He couldn't hide his excitement at the invitation, and all three of the adults smiled at it.

"I don't see why not," Steve said. "We're not going to be doing anything that would automatically exclude you." Meaning, they weren't going to be doing anything _dangerous_. "We'll have to clear it with Tony – or with _Strange_ , at least."

"We're not planning to leave until after breakfast," Natasha told him, reading his expression and knowing that he wasn't sure if either man would let him go. "And if they don't wake up before we're done, I'll go talk to them about you coming. Okay?"

"Thanks."

"Limited menu if we eat here," Clint said. "We can go to the commissary if you'd rather have something besides pancakes and eggs."

"No, anything is fine. What are you going to Seattle for? Or is it a secret?"

"Nothing exciting," Steve replied. "We're going to Boeing to get some specialty parts that are delicate enough we'd rather not have them shipped – since they'd only arrive broken."

"We don't _all_ need to go," Natasha confided. "But the coffee is amazing there and Steve and Clint think the barista is pretty."

Both men sputtered denials that made Peter grin, and Steve excused himself to go order their breakfast.

"I'm _married_ , Peter," Clint reminded him. "The barista is a sweet girl, but Natasha has failed to mention the big muscles on the brainless cashier with the man bun and chiseled jaw line."

Natasha reached over and slapped his shoulder.

"He's not _brainless_. He just knows when to keep his mouth shut – unlike some guys I know and work with."

OOOOOOOOO

The four were just finishing their breakfast when Tony Stark and Stephen Strange walked into the lounge obviously looking for Peter. Stark looked slightly rumpled, but as usual, Strange was dressed impeccably. Being a Master of the Mystic Arts definitely had its advantages. Both men headed their direction, pulling up chairs as they joined the group at the table.

"Good morning," Stark told the others as he sat down near Peter, his hand reaching for his forehead. "How do you feel?"

"Good."

"Fever's down."

"Yeah."

"We were talking about taking him with us to Seattle today," Natasha said, giving Tony a look that pointedly told him she wasn't going to take no for an answer and that there was only one reply he could give.

"Really?"

It was Strange who replied. He'd settled next to Natasha, and had approved of the nearly empty plate in front of Peter. Proof that he had an appetite. Of course, the _sixteen_ empty Ding Dong and Twinkie wrappers they'd found the night before once he and Tony had finally looked up from their conversation might have been evidence as well.

"It's just a quick trip there and back," Steve said, shrugging. He was more than willing to advocate for Peter being allowed to go. "He's been cooped up a lot, lately. It would do him some good to get out."

"I agree," Natasha said. _Now_ her warning look had Strange pinned, and he had no trouble reading her expression any more than Stark had.

He looked at Peter.

"How do you feel?"

"Good."

"No headache?"

"No."

"Dreams?"

"No."

"Where did you wake up this morning?"

"In my bed."

Since that was exactly where Strange had put him the night before when they'd discovered that their conversation had put him to sleep, the doctor nodded, satisfied.

"I don't see why you can't go. Bring me back a souvenir."

Peter beamed.

"Go put on your flight suit," Tony told him.

Peter left immediately, giving Stark the chance to talk to the others alone – which had been the whole idea.

"We'll take care of him," Steve said, before Tony could even open his mouth.

" _And_ we'll make sure he eats," Clint added.

"He'll be fine. There and back," Steve reminded him. "With a stop for coffee and maybe lunch."

Stark looked at Natasha, who shrugged. She didn't have anything to add. He already knew she wouldn't let anything happen to Peter. He sighed.

"Fine. I'm glad we had this talk."


	151. Chapter 152

It didn't take Peter long to get changed. He hesitated in his rooms just long enough to debate whether he wanted his web shooters – he hadn't worn them with a flight suit and was a little curious to see if they lined up right to be usable, but he couldn't see any reason to try it right then. He could try them on later, here at the compound. Instead he headed for the jet landing pad, grinning excitedly with the cloak making a very interesting fashion statement addition to the flight suit Peter was wearing.

The others were waiting, as were Stark and Strange. Natasha was giving Stephen a quick tour of the jet when Peter arrived, and Tony was standing at the rear, just out of the rain, watching for Peter and looking as if he wanted to change his mind about letting him go. He didn't, though. Instead he ran his hand along the flight suit, thinking that it looked a little loose compared to how it fit the last time, but unable to resist a smile at just how excited the boy looked.

"Have fun, okay?"

"Yeah."

"And keep these guys out of trouble."

Peter smiled.

"I'll try."

Strange walked down the ramp with Natasha, and they went over to the group. The doctor looked back at the jet.

"Isn't this the one you _won_?" he asked Peter, feigning confusion. "Or are there more than one?"

Stark rolled his eyes but Natasha only smiled.

"Are you ready, Peter?"

"Yeah."

"Is the cloak coming with us?" Steve asked, looking at the relic.

As if in response, it transferred from Peter's collar to Strange's. It did _not_ want to go to Seattle.

"You know how to reach me if you need me," Tony reminded them.

"We'll be fine," Steve told him, putting his hand on Peter's shoulder and turning the boy toward the jet. "We'll be back this evening."

Strange stood next to Tony, both men watching as the others went up the ramp and then the rear of the jet closed.

"They'll be fine," Stark said as they moved backward a little – now getting rained on.

"I know."

"It isn't any more dangerous for them to fly in the rain. They do it all the time."

"That's good to hear."

"We could probably wrangle an invitation…"

"I'd say it's too late now."

"Yeah."

OOOOOOOOO

Steve nudged Peter toward the cockpit, where Natasha was strapping herself into the pilot's seat.

"Nat's going to fly there," he said. "You can be her copilot. Clint will fly us home."

"Help me preflight, Peter," she told him, watching as Steve strapped him into his harness and then handing him a checklist. He actually knew what to do since he'd seen it done on the simulator when he and Ned had played with them, so even though she did all the actual prefight checks, Peter was able to read them off and even sometimes point to the proper toggle or switch in question.

Clint watched from behind them, with Steve beside him, pleased by the addition of the boy to the little group.

"Have you ever been to Seattle, Peter?" Steve asked, putting on a headset.

"No. Never."

"Good. Boeing is south of the city, but we can borrow a car and drive up and play tourist for a little while."

Natasha motioned for Peter to put on his headset, and reminded him which button would talk to the others, and which was for outside communications.

"We're going to be above commercial airspace for the most part," she told him. "But we'll be able to hear their chatter, so make sure you stay off their lines, okay?"

"Okay."

Clint settled himself in the jump seat where Natasha had been seated for Peter's first ride, but Steve didn't bother belting in. He just grabbed a hanging strap for support when Natasha fired the jet and lifted them off.

"Get comfortable," Natasha told Peter. "A normal flight is four hours or so. We're going to go much faster – only because we want to have time to show you the city."

"It's raining there, too," Clint told him. "So you'll have a chance to get west coast rained on."

"The weather changes all the time," Steve told him. "We might get lucky."

"But we won't," Natasha admitted.

She kicked in the jet's powerful engines and Peter felt the motion in his gut as he was pressed against his seat. He smiled with delight at something that he knew was common to them, but he couldn't help himself.

What he didn't know was that they were all watching his reaction and enjoying the fact that _he_ was enjoying it. He leaned as far as his harness would allow him to, looking all around, even though all he could really see outside the cockpit was rain and clouds – and then the tops of the clouds as the jet came out above them.

OOOOOOOO

"Awww, you two looked depressed…"

Stark looked up from the chessboard he'd been staring at, and saw Pepper standing beside him. He hadn't noticed her arrival in the lounge. He moved his pawn, and then leaned into her slightly.

"We're fine."

Strange moved his bishop. Even the cloak that was hanging from his collar looked somewhat subdued.

"Never better."

She smiled, resting her hand on the back of Tony's neck, caressing him lightly.

"Baby bird flew the coop and now you have nothing to do?"

"We have _plenty_ to do," Stark told her. "A whole new project, as a matter of fact."

"Really?"

"Yes."

He moved his pawn, again.

"Doing what?"

"We're going to try to integrate the watches with a magic spell," Strange told her.

"Why?"

"So I can use a portal to find someone."

"Isn't that the whole idea behind GPS?"

"Yes, but this has a slightly different application."

He moved his knight, taking Stark's pawn.

She didn't look convinced, but she just shrugged. They didn't seem to be in much of a hurry to start their project. For that matter, neither of them seemed too invested in their chess game, either.

"Are you going to play chess all day?" she asked Tony.

"Did you need me?"

"Nope."

"I'll probably be here, then. Come find me for lunch."

"Stephen?"

He looked up.

"Keep him out of trouble, okay?"

Strange nodded.

"Sure."

She pressed a kiss against the top of Stark's head, and left them alone.

OOOOOOOOOOO

It was raining in Seattle. And at Boeing Field, which was where Natasha landed the jet two and a half hours after they left the compound. As they left the jet, Natasha told Peter to stick by her side and he did.

He looked around with interest as the group picked up the parts that they'd been sent to collect, and then stored them in the plane for safe keeping. They all changed into street clothes and jackets against the rain and he sat beside Natasha while Clint drove them all up into the city in a car that he borrowed from a contact that they had there at the field, and he enjoyed himself immensely as the three Avengers showed him the city of Seattle and all the usual tourist places.

Pike Place Market was interesting enough that he could have wandered the place all day, although it was a lot of walking and he wasn't quite up for that, yet. They even seemed to enjoy helping him pick out the perfect souvenirs that weren't too touristy, but still might be enjoyed. Steve found a bobble-head Captain America doll in a little almost hidden comic and art shop, and Clint snatched it from him and bought it before Steve had a chance to decide if he'd wanted it or not. Then he'd had Steve sign it and take a picture with it, telling Peter that he'd make a killing on EBay with it – unless his son decided that he wanted it instead.

They also took him to the coffee shop in question, where he saw the barista – who _was_ cute, Peter admitted – but not the cashier Clint had teased Natasha about since apparently it was his day off.

She consoled herself with a piece of lemon cake and bought them all lunch at one of the famous fish places on the waterfront. Peter watched the ferries and other boats with interest, and stuffed himself with clam chowder and fries while people watching – which was something he loved to do no matter what coast he was on, apparently.

All in all, it had been a lot of fun, and more relaxing than he realized.

"Did you have a good time?" Natasha asked him as they drove back to the field where the jet was gleaming wetly in the late afternoon rain.

"It was great. Thanks for bringing me."

"Next time we'll go to the Space Needle," Steve promised. "There's a place on the top that serves pretty good steaks."

Which made him smile. Not because of the steaks, but because they were willing to include him in their plans. And not because they _had_ to, but because they really seemed to want to. It made him feel good. Like he really was part of the team, even though he knew he wasn't just yet.

He was tired by the time they changed back into their flight suits and boarded the jet, but Peter wasn't about to end his day falling asleep on a ride in the coolest plane he'd ever been in. He sat in a pull down seat against the fuselage next to Natasha, and was surprised by all the things she'd picked up while they'd been out and about shopping.

"Are you _really_ going to wear that?" he asked, looking at a bright yellow shirt she was holding up. It had a picture of Big Foot, hanging off the Space Needle looking through a pair of binoculars at a pod of killer whales out in the water. Big green letters spelled out the city of Seattle across the top.

She shook her head.

"I didn't buy it for _me_."

"I hope you didn't buy it for me, either," Steve said. He'd been sitting in the copilot seat, but he'd turned and was watching them.

"Nope." She smiled at Peter. "Don't look so panicked. I didn't buy it for _you_ , either."

"Doctor Strange?"

"You guessed it."

Peter shook his head, amused. He couldn't wait to see that conversation.


	152. Chapter 153

It was a little after eight PM when they arrived back at the Avenger's facility. The rain hadn't let up, but it didn't stop Tony and Stephen from being out by the landing pad when the Quinjet dropped smoothly in for a landing. Both men were holding umbrellas, watching in the light of the spotlights as the jet settled on its wheels, the engines shut off and then the ramp began to lower.

"Thanks for bringing me," Peter told the others, again, as Clint powered the engines down and completed the shutdown process.

"You're welcome," Steve said, meaning it. He'd had a great time. "Any time we can finagle an invitation, come with us."

"I will."

He walked over to stand by Natasha, who was lowering the ramp. Both of them were holding shopping bags and looking a bit more like tourists than agents returning home from a mission. Peter figured picking up parts could still be considered a mission – just not a _hazardous_ one.

"You're okay?" she asked, reaching out to touch his cheek.

He looked tired, and she knew he'd almost fallen asleep a couple of times on the flight home but had stubbornly refused to do so, probably wanting to enjoy the flight. She could have lulled him to sleep and let him nap, but knew that they'd have him home and in bed soon enough, and she wanted him to have any little victory he could. Even if it was just managing to stay awake.

"Yeah."

He felt warm to her tough, but not too much.

"No spoiling Stephen's surprise…"

Peter grinned.

"I won't."

The ramp lowered enough for them to see the two men waiting for them, but that was about all Peter had a chance to see. The Cloak of Levitation was not as patient as the others, and it practically flung itself at the boy, the weight of the heavy cloth throwing Peter backward as it wrapped itself around his head and shoulders. He stumbled, but Rogers was right there with a steadying hand as the thing hummed cheerfully in Peter's head, chiding him good-naturedly for being gone for so long.

"We'll take care of the payload," Steve told Natasha. "See you in the morning."

She nodded and walked down the ramp with Peter, who had convinced the cloak to shift enough that he could see again. Stark and Stephen both looked the boy over, but aside from looking tired, there weren't any new bruises or any indication that he'd suffered from being away from the compound.

Tony moved the umbrella to cover Peter as well as himself, while Strange walked over to Natasha and did the same with the one he was holding.

"Welcome back," Tony told Peter. "How'd it go?"

The boy's grin was all the answer that they really needed, and both men were satisfied to see that none of the effects from his encounter with the Mind stone appeared to be lingering in his expression. Maybe an afternoon away had been just what he needed.

"It was so much fun."

"Yeah? Good. Let's go have dinner and you can tell us all about it."

"Okay."

"We're going to the lounge," Tony told Romanoff, making sure she understood she was invited to eat dinner with them. He wanted to hear _her_ side of the day's adventure as well. He put his arm around Peter's shoulder, ostensibly to keep him under the umbrella as they walked toward the building.

"Is it weird that I'm _jealous_?" Natasha asked Stephen with a slight smile.

"Of _Tony_?"

"Of _Peter_ ," she admitted. "And his _rug_. If there was a greeting _that_ happy waiting for me every time I came home, I'd leave every day just to see it."

He smiled, and put an arm around her – to keep her under the umbrella as they walked, of course.

"I can understand that. Maybe you should get a _puppy_. Instant happiness, from what I've heard."

She laughed, and shifted her shopping bag to the other hand so she could put an arm around his waist while they walked, careful to keep herself and the bag under the umbrella as well, so they wouldn't get wet.

"And everything I own would be chewed up or _peed_ on. I'll settle for a little less happiness."

OOOOOOOO

The lounge was fairly empty, but Pepper was sitting at the table in the corner waiting for them. The four had left the umbrellas at the door and looked fairly dry considering the rain outside, and Pepper smiled a greeting to Peter as he sat down in the chair next to hers, the cloak petting his cheeks and hair and obviously glad to see him.

"Did you have a good time?" she asked, knowing the answer before he answered.

"Yeah. It was great."

"Are you hungry?"

"Yes."

"Good," Tony said, patting his shoulder. "I'll go tell them we're ready to eat. Be right back."

Natasha and Strange sat down as well, with Romanoff sitting beside Pepper and Strange taking the remaining chair next to Tony's empty one. Pepper eyed the bag Natasha set down on the floor between them.

"You did some shopping?"

She shrugged.

" _Peter_ was buying things, so I felt obligated. You know, to support the local economy…"

"Uh huh. That's very big of you."

"I thought so, too."

"I got you something," Peter told Pepper.

Her eyes lit up. Everyone loved to get presents, after all.

"Really?"

"I hope you got _me_ something, too," Tony told him, returning just in time to hear, and sitting down.

'Yeah."

"Save it for later so you don't spill anything on it," Pepper suggested as the lounge's serving staff brought over trays with serving dishes of food and place settings for everyone. Tony hadn't known how many would be eating, and it was better kept warm, anyway, so they had simply been waiting for the word. "Tell me about your day."

He did. Between bites of dinner he told them all about the flight out, the airplanes he'd seen at Boeing Field, the shopping area at Pike place Market – including the bobble head doll that Clint had bought. He described the people he'd watched, and the food he'd eaten, and even the way it rained nonstop – which even Peter had heard of but had just assumed it was a stereotype of the Pacific Northwest.

Pepper wasn't the only one to smile at his enthusiasm and excitement. By the time they had dessert, Natasha filled in any holes in their afternoon's excursion and ended with a comment that she was surprised they hadn't ended up needing a bigger plane for all the souvenirs Peter had purchased.

"So what did you get me?" Tony asked, gesturing to the servers to clear the table for them.

Peter rummaged into his bag and pulled out a shot glass with the Space Needle on it and handed it over.

"The guy at the shop said that people collect them. I figured if you _didn't_ , maybe you could start."

Stark smiled.

"I don't, but I _will_."

"You've created a _monster_ , Peter," Pepper told him. "You know that this means that any time you go anywhere, you're going to have to bring him one, now. Right?"

He smiled, but Natasha reached into her bag as well.

"I brought you something to put in it," she told Stark, handing over a bottle of a specific northwest microbrew that she knew he liked.

"Perfect."

Peter handed Pepper a stuffed bear wearing a pink t-shirt also emblazoned with the Space Needle and she took it with a smile, and leaned over to hug him.

"He's adorable. Thank you."

"You're welcome."

Peter's souvenir for Strange was a coffee mug. Black and emblazoned in silver, it told the world that he was a doctor, not a magician, and Stephen smiled, amused.

"It's not quite _accurate_ ," Peter acknowledged. "But I thought you'd see the irony."

"It's great."

"And this." He handed over a large bag of coffee grounds from the coffee shop they had visited. "They ground it in front of me. It's supposed to be amazing. Natasha helped me pick it out. I figured you and Wong can use it."

"Definitely. Thank you."

Peter was glad he liked it. Before he could say anything, though, Natasha pulled out the shirt and handed it to him.

"I found _this_ for you."

It was everything Peter could do to keep a straight face as he watched Strange hold up the shirt and look at it. The doctor's expression was priceless as he glanced at Natasha, trying to decide if she'd really thought it was something that he'd be excited about, or if it was a gag gift.

She, of course, was completely unreadable, watching him expectantly.

"It's... ah…"

Peter had never seen Strange flabbergasted before, and he was glad the cloak chose that moment to draw itself up around his cheek so he could hide his grin behind the heavy cloth. Tony and Pepper both had to move to look, wondering what could have stumped Stephen so thoroughly.

"It's _hideous_ ," Stark said, frowning.

Pepper was suddenly seized by a coughing fit, and Strange looked over at Natasha suspiciously. She gave him an innocent look that gave him the clue he needed to know that she wasn't going to expect him to wear it, at least, and smiled, shaking his head.

"Cute…"

She smirked. _She_ thought she was.


	153. Chapter 154

They stayed in the lounge for a while after they finished eating. The discussion was mainly the trip to Seattle, of course, but Natasha asked what had happened at the compound while they'd been gone and Pepper had mentioned that the two men hadn't accomplished anything.

"We decided that if you guys could take a vacation, so could we," Tony told Natasha.

"But without the souvenirs," Strange added, once more picking up the shirt that she'd brought him.

"It's a great shirt."

"If you want to get _beat up_ ," Stark pointed out. "No man could wear that shirt and look good in it."

"Peter could."

The boy hadn't really been paying attention to the conversation. He was distracted by the cloak cuddling up against his face and shoulders, and was almost at the point where he was a bit sleepy and ready to start thinking about bed. He sat up a little, startled, when he heard his name.

"What?"

"Natasha seems to think you would look manly in the shirt she brought home for Stephen," Tony told him, realizing that the boy was almost half asleep. It was definitely time to get him to bed.

"What?"

"I didn't say _manly_ ," she corrected. "I said it wasn't so horrible that a man couldn't look good in it."

"I disagree," Strange said. "Tony's right. Besides, you'd never convince a guy to wear it in the first place."

Romanoff looked over at Peter.

"You'd put it on for me, wouldn't you?"

Wondering how he'd become involved in any of this he frowned.

"I'm wearing a _flight suit_."

A moment later, his flight suit was gone, replaced by sweats and a t-shirt. He looked over at Strange, who raised an eyebrow at him, amused.

 _"Well?"_

Peter shrugged and asked the cloak to move, and then pulled his t-shirt off, reaching for the yellow monstrosity. He'd do anything for her. She had to already know it. If that was all it took to make her happy, then he'd have done anything short of prance around naked.

Natasha beamed.

"He doesn't look manly," Stark pointed out.

"I think he's _adorable_ ," Pepper disagreed.

"So do I," Romanoff told them.

Tony rolled his eyes at Strange.

"We're not going to win this one. You know that, right? Not when they've already corrupted him."

Stephen nodded, even though he wouldn't have used the word _corrupted_.

"It's probably time to call it a night, anyway. I need to get back to the Sanctum."

He hadn't been there all day, after all. Of course, Wong knew where to find him if something happened, but still...

"And I need some _sleep_ ," Natasha said. "Give Stephen back his shirt, Peter, and walk me to my quarters, will you?"

The cloak grumbled in his mind about moving again so Peter could pull the t-shirt off, but it waited until he switched back to his own shirt and handed the yellow one to Strange and then wrapped around Peter's shoulders again, crooning cheerfully.

Strange stood up, picking up his coffee mug, coffee and then wrapping the shirt around them. The cloak moved over to his collar after a final caress to Peter's ear.

"I'll stop by tomorrow to check on things."

"We don't have anything planned at this point," Stark told him.

"Keep him out of the water for now. We'll see how he looks tomorrow."

He and the cloak vanished, and Tony looked at Peter.

"You good?"

"Yeah."

Natasha stood up, taking Peter's hand and pulling him to his feet as well.

"He's fine. We'll see you at breakfast."

OOOOOOOOOO

 _It wasn't a person. He didn't know exactly what it was, but it was radiating age and power._

Eternity

 _It wasn't whispered, but the name appeared in his mind as if it had been. As he watched, the being pulled on the very fabric of the universe and held a piece of it in its hand, focusing his influence on the speck it held. A moment later it solidified, and he caressed it between his finger and thumb for a moment._

 _Eternity wasn't alone, then. He handed the fabric he held to a shadowy being who faded and solidified and then faded again. The being took the fabric and now it was its turn to focus on it. It breathed into the cloth it held, and it twitched, suddenly no longer simply a piece of the universe, but also a separate entity of its own, now._

 _The cloth changed hands once more, and this time it was a woman who held it. She fashioned it, molded it into a form that would allow it more functionality, and then handed it off to another woman, who wore it attached to her collar, and wielded power that literally made her glow from the inside out._

 _As he watched, the woman in turn was replaced by another – this one just as powerful, but with a cruel expression and one who exuded a feeling of evil. This woman attempted to dominate the cloak she was now wearing and was instead rebuffed by it. The cloak would serve who it wanted, and who was worthy of its abilities. It would not be tainted. Power streaked through the fabric, and through the contact with it, also through the woman – who was overwhelmed and destroyed._

 _The cloak was untouched._

 _Then followed a seemingly endless procession of bearers. All powerful, made more powerful by the cloak – when it chose to augment the power of those who bore it. Sometimes it did. Most times it did not. Sometimes it spurned those who would abuse its abilities. But once it found a wielder who was different. One who was just as powerful as the others, but handled the power differently, and felt the power in a way none of the others before him had. It melded seamlessly with this bearer and provided protection, affection and guidance. Something it had never given to another._

 _When that bearer was gone, it never gave it again. It simply waited. Watching and occasionally allowing itself to be worn, but mostly just biding its time. Its powers became forgotten in time, more of a relic than a tool, now. Something to be looked at, but not understood. Waiting for the next one who would need it, and be worthy of it._

 _Strange._

Peter woke with a start, the odd dream still echoing in his mind and the image of Doctor Strange fading as he opened his eyes and looked around. It had been so real that he honestly expected to see a crowd of people in his room with him. There wasn't anyone, though, and he shook his head, trying to clear it.

The images didn't fade, and it took him a long time to go back to sleep.


	154. Chapter 155

Tony felt Pepper slide back into bed with him, her arm coming around him. Sleepily, he took her hand and held it against him, already intending to go back to sleep. It was very early and he wasn't quite ready to start his day.

"What's wrong with Peter?" she asked him, brushing a kiss against his shoulder.

"He's too young to go bar hopping with me…"

There was a soft chuckle, and her grip on him tightened just a little.

"Is he okay?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why is he sleeping on the sofa?"

"What?"

"I asked you why he's sleeping on the sofa."

Stark rolled over, awake now.

 _"What?"_

She frowned at his look of confusion.

"You didn't know?"

"No."

He got out of bed, suddenly worried, and padded into the living area of their quarters, with Pepper behind him. Sure enough, Peter was sprawled on one of the sofas, with a blanket draped over him, sound asleep.

"I put the blanket on him," Pepper told him as they walked over. "He was shivering."

Tony leaned over the back of the sofa, his hand carefully brushing against the boy's forehead, checking for fever. He wasn't warm, and certainly not _hot_. He also didn't seem to be distressed. There were no indications that he was having a bad dream, or that he was in any pain. Tony would have recognized them immediately – he'd seen enough of them recently.

"Huh."

"You didn't put him there?"

"No."

"He couldn't have been sleepwalking, right? You have Friday watching for that."

"No. I loosened the parameters to the pool and the outside of the building," he told her. "After the last time when he was just out for a stroll."

"He looks okay."

They both watched Peter sleep for a minute and Tony thought that she was right. He was just sleeping.

"I'll sit with him," he told her. "Just to make sure. Until he wakes up."

"Want some coffee?"

He shook his head and hugged her.

"I'll make it. Go back to bed."

"You're sure?"

"Yeah. I've got him."

She went back to their room and he went to the bar where the coffee pot was sitting and hit the button that would start it.

"Friday? When did he show up?"

"Four-thirty two this morning," came the muted reply.

There were no cameras in their quarters – which would have been creepy – but the screen closest to the bar came on and the AI showed footage of the corridor outside the door, with Peter walking soundlessly down the hallway wearing nothing but a pair of sweats and letting himself into the room.

"You didn't think to wake me?"

"He's slept on the sofa before."

Which was true, but he still frowned.

"Next time, wake me."

"Right."

"How are his vitals?"

"Within normal parameters."

Tony poured himself a cup of coffee and picked up his tablet as he walked over to the sofa. Peter wasn't tall enough to take up all the space, so there was plenty of room for Stark to sit down near his head and he did so carefully, trying not to wake him up. If he was sleeping without issue, there was no reason to wake him up and send him back to his room.

But he _did_ want to be there when he woke up – just in case it had been a nightmare that had pulled him out of his bed in the wee hours of the morning and he needed someone to talk it out with. He set the coffee down and checked the boy's forehead once more, then turned on the tablet.

OOOOOOOO

It was the smell of coffee that woke Peter. It was the feel of leather under him that made him open his eyes in confusion. He stirred, running his hand along the edge of the leather sofa and lifted his head, looking around, confused.

"Hey…"

Tony was close enough that he had known when Peter started waking up. His breathing had changed, and he'd moved a little, shifting to get comfortable, so when Peter opened his eyes Stark had set his tablet down and was watching him carefully. He saw confusion, and drowsiness but nothing in the boy's expression that told him something bad had happened.

"Mr. Stark?"

"Yeah." He reached out and touched his forehead again, but there wasn't a fever. "You okay?"

"Yeah." Peter sat up, looking around. He recognized where he was, but had no idea what he was doing there. "What's going on?"

"You tell me," Tony replied, gently. "Did you have a bad dream?"

"No. A _weird_ one, but not bad. Not even scary."

"No planets?"

"No. Just the cloak, and some people… and Doctor Strange…"

"You dreamed about _Stephen_?"

"No." Peter pulled the blanket around himself, a little chilled. "I dreamed about the _cloak_. And the people it knew. Doctor Strange was just at the end – when I woke up."

"How do _you_ know what people it knew?"

'I'm not sure. That's why it was weird."

"You're not hurt?"

"No."

"Dizzy?"

"No. I feel okay. Just tired – and a little cold." He looked around again, figuring it out. "I was sleepwalking?"

"Apparently."

"I don't remember anything."

"It's okay, Peter. It's still early. Why don't you go back to sleep for a while?"

"Did I wake you up?"

"No, _Pepper_ did."

"I heard that."

They both looked over and saw her coming out of the bedroom, awake and obviously getting ready to start her day. She walked to the back of the sofa they were sitting on and leaned over a little, brushing a hand along Peter's forehead and cheek, smiling at how sleepy he looked and relieved that he didn't seem to be upset or anything.

"Are you okay?" she asked him, pulling him back just enough so she could brush a kiss against his cheek.

"Yeah. I'm sorry. I don't remember-"

"Nothing to be sorry for," she told him, cutting him off before he could apologize. "I was a sleepwalker when I was younger. I know how weird it is to not know where you're waking up at. Why don't you go to bed and sleep yourself out? We can worry about the rest of it later."

He nodded, and stood up, dropping the blanket and turning toward the door, but that wasn't what Pepper had in mind.

"Put him in our bed, Tony," she ordered, when she realized the boy was going to go back to his quarters – and probably be wide awake by the time he got there. Which would keep him from going back to sleep.

"Yes, dear."

He caught Peter's arm and turned him back toward the bedroom door instead.

"It's not that far," the boy told them. "I can-"

"Don't argue with her, Peter," Tony said, steering him across the room and through the door. "You _won't_ win. Believe me, I know."

He pushed Peter down onto the bed, and pulled the blankets up around him. Despite himself, Peter sighed and closed his eyes. It was still warm, and he was so tired.

"Only for a little while…" he mumbled.

"Okay."

With a smile that was both tender and amused, Stark leaned over and picked up the teddy bear that Peter had given Pepper the evening before – which she had insisted on bringing to bed with her. He tucked it against the boy's cheek and left him to his interrupted rest, closing the door behind him.

Pepper was at the bar, drinking a cup of coffee.

"Well?"

"He's already asleep."

"Good."

Tony leaned against the bar.

"I didn't know you were a sleepwalker…"

She nodded, smiling.

"I was really bad, for a while there. I never knew where I was going to wake up. More than once I was in the barn. It's dangerous, and embarrassing – so don't you dare tease him about it."

"I won't. So what did you do?" he was fascinated to hear an aspect of her that he didn't know before.

"My father ended up tying one end of a rope to my ankle and the other to my bed frame. It would usually wake me up."

"When did you grow out of it?"

" _College_."

"Hopefully we don't have to wait that long in Peter's case."


	155. Chapter 156

When Peter opened his eyes he knew immediately that he wasn't alone. The gentle crooning in his mind was soothing, and the warmth the relic provided was comforting. He stretched under the blankets and the cloak and the crooning became cheerful the more he woke up, and immediately his cheek and hair were being caressed.

"Good afternoon."

He rolled over, recognizing Doctor Strange's voice immediately, and was somewhat surprised to see the doctor sitting in a chair, his feet propped up on the edge of the bed. And he remembered that he wasn't even in his own bed. Peter rubbed his face, and frowned when he realized what he'd said.

" _Afternoon_?"

He looked at his watch and was shocked to see it was after one PM.

Strange nodded, sitting up and leaning over to brush his hand against Peter's forehead.

"You've been asleep for quite a while. How do you feel?"

"I'm okay."

"Yes, you seem to be. No fever, at any rate. How's your head?"

"It's fine. No headache or anything."

"Good." He leaned back again, looking at the boy with amusement. "Is there something wrong with _your_ bed?"

"What do you mean?"

"Too soft? Too hard? You don't like the color of the sheets?"

Peter finally figured out what he meant, but he recognized that Strange was teasing him, and just smiled and shook his head.

"How long have you been here?"

"At the compound? About an hour. Watching you sleep? About half of that. Are you ready to get up, or are you still tired?"

As far as everyone involved was concerned, they were fine with the boy sleeping. The more the better, really. Which was why no one was concerned when Peter hadn't woken to eat breakfast and they weren't looking too worried when Strange appeared at lunch time – even though Tony was considering waking him up to avoid allowing him miss two meals. They _were_ still trying to get some weight back on him, after all.

Stephen had offered to check on him, and said that when he was awake they'd join Stark in the lounge.

"I'm ready to get up."

He was, too. He felt a little tired, but probably only from sleeping so long. He pushed the blankets back and got out of bed.

"Tony's waiting for us in the lounge."

"I need to get dressed."

A moment later he was wearing jeans and a t-shirt, with a pullover sweatshirt on over the t-shirt. When he looked up at Strange he shrugged.

"Now that you're not fevered I want to make sure you don't catch a chill. If you get too hot you can always take it off."

Of course, the cloak was right there to wrap around his shoulders and head, so there was very little to worry about when it came to potential chill.

Strange put his hand on Peter's shoulder while they walked to the lounge, and they both saw Stark sitting at one of the corner tables. Tony noticed them at the same time they headed his direction and he set his tablet down when they reached the table.

"Look who I found," Stephen told him as they sat down.

Stark smiled, his eyes on Peter, looking for anything that was off and pleased to see the boy looked like he was feeling pretty good.

"You okay?"

"Yeah."

"Hungry?"

"Yeah."

"Good. Stephen?"

"Sure."

"I'll be right back."

He went over to the bar, and Strange turned his attention back to Peter.

"So obviously you ended up in a different bed this morning. Not because of a bad dream, though, from what Tony told me."

"I don't know why," Peter admitted. "But I didn't have a bad dream. Just a weird one."

"About the cloak, Tony said?"

"Yeah."

The cloak rubbed a corner against his ear, tickling him and Stark returned and reclaimed his chair.

"Tell me about your dream," Stephen said.

Both men listened with interest as Peter described to them what he had seen. He didn't _hear_ anything, it was all visual, and he felt like he was trying to explain something that was so far out of his own understanding that he might as well have been a caveman trying to describe a computer, but they listened with interest – especially Strange.

When he was finished, the doctor leaned forward.

"Just to make sure I understand," he said as a waitperson brought over their lunch and set it on their table. Three plates with burgers and fries, which smelled amazing – especially as hungry as Peter was. "You saw the cloak kill a woman?"

"I think so. I don't know what else could have done it."

"With magic?"

"I don't know. It was some kind of energy – but I don't _feel_ whatever is going on in the dreams. I just see it. So I couldn't tell you it was magic, just one minute she was wearing it and the next she was dead and it was hovering."

"And that didn't upset you?" Tony asked, confused. The boy had been having a lot of dreams about death and destruction. He was worried that the pattern was returning after they'd had a few days without one.

"I kind of got the impression that she _deserved_ it," he said.

There was a sudden feeling of agreement coming from the cloak, and Peter looked over his shoulder at it in surprise.

"What is it?" Strange asked, noticing immediately.

"It just agreed with me."

"When did it start _talking_ to you?" Tony asked.

"It doesn't," Peter said. "It's more like I get emotions from it. Usually just happiness or grumpiness – it doesn't like it when May hugs me and holds it down, or when she sat on it, for instance. But it can't actually speak to me."

"It could answer simple yes or no questions, though?" Strange asked.

"I think so."

There was a decided yes coming from the cloak.

"Will it answer _my_ questions?"

Another affirmative response.

"It says yes."

"Are you sure you should be _wearing_ that thing?" Tony asked, suddenly worried.

"It likes me," Peter reminded him, and smiled when there was instant agreement, accompanied by a caress.

Even Stark caught that reply.

"Did _it_ kill the woman who was wearing it?" Strange asked. "Or did it use _her_ power to do it?"

"How is that a yes or no question?" Tony asked. He could certainly understand the reason for asking, though.

"Sorry. Did it kill the woman who was wearing it?"

Agreement.

"Yes."

Peter didn't bother to add the smug feeling he was suddenly getting from the relic.

"With its own power?"

"Yes."

"Can it kill _anyone_?"

"No."

"Just someone wearing it?"

"No."

"Someone _touching_ it?" Stark asked.

"Right."

"So it doesn't have to be a magic user."

"No."

"How does it kill someone?" Tony asked. "There's nothing on it that I've seen that can build any kind of charge, and Peter mentioned it was some kind of power in his dream."

"It's made from the universe. I imagine it can draw energy from everything around it. It's already a part of it. So are you and so am I. It's where I draw my own power from."

"It agrees with you."

Peter took a bite of his burger.

"Is that why you like Peter?" Strange asked. "Because he can feel you and no one else can?"

"No. And yes."

"It's part of it?"

The boy had to shrug. The cloak wasn't able to tell him, so he couldn't pass the answer on to the doctor.

"That's amazing."

"It's not _that_ amazing," Stark said, picking up his burger, also. "I like Peter, too."

Strange rolled his eyes.

"I wonder what else it can do."

"Eat your lunch, Stephen," Tony suggested. "Peter can play translator all afternoon if you want – just let him eat, first."

"You don't mind?" Strange asked the by.

"No. Not at all."

He had to admit that he was curious, too. He just never knew what questions to ask.

"So how would Peter suddenly have a dream about the origins of the cloak?" Stark asked. "If it was the cloak telling him, it could have told him two weeks ago."

"I suspect it's the Mind stone. It probably knows Peter is curious and is still communicating with him – sounds like it isn't throwing nightmares at him, though, so he might have been able to make it understand what it was doing."

"Think it's causing the sleepwalking?"

"No."

The answer was quick, and certain.

"Why not?" Peter asked.

"Because you had a sleepwalking episode long before we knew about the Mind stone – or it knew about _you_."

"You're talking about his time out in the woods."

"Yes."

"He had another one besides that one," Tony added. "So I suppose you're right. How do we stop them?"

"How did the last ones stop, Peter?" He'd known about them, as he'd told Stark. But since they hadn't had anything to do with him being ill at the time, Strange hadn't gone beyond that initial discussion.

"You'd have to ask May," he told them. "I honestly don't remember."

Strange nodded.

"I'll make a point to do that." He gestured to the plate of food. "Eat."


	156. Chapter 157

Peter was hungry enough that he polished off the first burger, all his fries _and_ some of Tony's – and then had another burger – before he finally pushed his plate away and leaned back into his chair, stuffed.

"Better?" Stark asked.

He and Strange were both pleased by the boy's appetite, and if he'd have asked, Tony would have ordered him another burger without question. They'd had coffee and talked about the sleepwalking thing while watching Peter finish his meal.

Strange had been forced to admit that he really didn't know all that much about sleepwalking – aside from the usual myths about not waking someone up who was sleepwalking, and that it _did_ have the potential to be dangerous for the person involved – and others if the sleepwalker decided to be a sleep _driver_ or something.

"Yes, thanks."

"How do you feel?" Stephen asked him.

"Okay."

"Tired?"

He wouldn't be surprised – not after the heavy meal – but Peter shook his head.

"A little, but I'm okay."

"You mind being go between for me again?"

"No."

The cloak was obviously willing as well, since it had wrapped itself around Peter but was now obviously attuned to Strange.

"It decides who will wear it, right?"

"Yes."

"How?" Tony asked. "Like Thor's hammer does? You gotta be _worthy_?"

He wasn't actually asking the cloak, because it wasn't exactly a yes or no question, but Peter nodded all the same.

"It says yes."

" _It_ decides?" Strange clarified.

"Yes."

" _I'm_ worthy?"

"Yes."

"Would _you_ be worthy?"

The question made Stark scowl, and surprised Peter, but it didn't bother the cloak. However, there was a long hesitation.

"What's it saying?" Tony asked, now perversely annoyed at the thought that Peter might not be worthy.

"I don't think it understands the question," Peter admitted. "Or maybe the answer is too complex for yes or no."

"Let me clarify," Strange said, leaning forward in that ultra-intent way he had about him sometimes. "If Peter were a _magic user_ would he be someone who you would find worthy?"

"Yes."

"But it'd _protect_ him anyway?" Stark asked. "Even though he isn't."

"Yes."

"It already proved that, Tony," Strange pointed out. "Do you only attach to magic users?"

"Yes."

"Can you augment their powers?"

"Yes."

"I thought so."

"Go back to how it kills people," Tony requested. "It doesn't just arbitrarily decide it doesn't like someone and offs them, right?"

"No."

Peter could understand the concern, though. There were a lot of people at the compound, after all. But the cloak hadn't done anything to threaten any of them any of the many times it had been with Peter.

"Too bad Peter wasn't wearing it when Loki came after him," Stark said with a smirk. "That would have made things more interesting."

"I don't think it would have tried to kill him," Peter said, absently rubbing his fingers against a corner of the cloak that was hanging down onto his arm.

"What? He was trying to kill _you_."

"Did you ever play D&D?"

Both men nodded.

"My first time at the sanctum I was looking at the displays and classifying the items by how they felt to me. Using the same classification system we use in D&D. I figured the cloak was probably neutral good, or lawful neutral. I think in order for it to final strike someone they would have to be chaotic evil. Truly evil, I mean."

There was faint agreement from the cloak.

"Huh. And Loki isn't?" Stark asked.

"More like chaotic neutral," Strange suggested. "He's pretty random, but not completely without boundaries."

"That's the way I read him, too," Peter agreed. "Maybe if Loki actually grabbed the cloak, put it on and tried to force it to do something, it might retaliate, but otherwise it probably would have just tried to get me away to someplace safe."

There was agreement from the cloak, and Peter passed that on.

"What are you guys up to?" Natasha asked, walking up to them without any of them noticing. She smiled a hello to the others as she put her hand on Peter's shoulder before sitting beside him. Peter didn't feel annoyance from the cloak when she touched it, and wondered if the touch didn't bother the cloak, it was being hugged and pinned down that irritated it.

"We're playing twenty questions with Stephen's cloak," Stark told her. "Turns out it talks to Peter."

"It doesn't _talk_ to him," she corrected. "He just gets emotions from it."

Stark and Strange both looked surprised.

"You knew?"

"Of course. Peter and I were discussing it one day." As much time as she spent with the boy, she pretty much knew everything about him – and anyone, or _anything_ that he spent any time with. "What are you asking it?"

"I'm trying to understand how it works," Strange told her. "It's one of those mysteries that we never thought we'd unravel, because it predates not only written or oral records, but honestly even myth and legend are extremely rare for it."

"Are you learning anything?"

"It can kill people it doesn't like," Stark told her.

"Really?"

"Evidently."

"Does it like _Tony_?" She asked Peter with a smirk, already knowing the answer. Natasha had a feeling that the cloak liked anyone who liked Peter – simply because she knew _it_ adored the boy.

He smiled, because the cloak gave an immediate yes.

"Yeah."

"And it likes _me_ , right?"

The cloak reached out and touched her cheek with one of its caresses.

"I'd say it's safe to say that it adores you, Natasha," Strange told her, amused.

Peter nodded his own agreement.

She smiled, deciding it probably didn't need her who to trust and who not to trust speech.

"Are you guys done for now? I want to borrow Peter."

"For what?" Stark asked.

"There's a lightbulb that needs changing and I can't reach it."

Meaning she wasn't going to tell them. Tony rolled his eyes and nodded.

"Are you going to need him long?"

"No. We'll come back here."

"Okay."

They stood up and left, her arm around Peter's shoulders, and both men were silent as they watched them go.

"What was that all about?" Strange asked.

"I've learned a long time ago that if she doesn't want to tell me something she won't. Nothing you can do about it."

"I'll keep that in mind."

Tony gave him a knowing look.

"You do that."

OOOOOOOOO

"Where are we going?" Peter asked curiously. He was well aware that she didn't need his help with a lightbulb, since she was taller than he was.

"Clint's doing some maintenance on the jet – putting in one of those parts we picked up yesterday. I thought you might be interested to see what it does."

"Yeah. What does it do?"

"I'm not going to spoil the surprise" she told him. "After dinner, though, we're going to take it up for a practical application test, if you didn't get your fill of flying yesterday?"

His grin was answer enough for her, and they were both smiling when they reached the jet a few minutes later. Steve and Clint were under the belly of the aircraft on a lift that enabled them both to reach an open panel that had some wires hanging out of it and they looked down when they saw Natasha and Peter below them.

"There you are," Steve said, jumping out of the lift and landing lightly beside them. He pointed up. "Clint's about done. Then we'll be ready to see how it works."

"We're going to be outside for this one," Romanoff told Peter.

They watched as Barton finished whatever it was he was doing and then closed the access panel he was using and then lowered the lift to join them.

"All set," he said with a grin. "It'll either disappear or it'll blow up in a truly spectacular fashion."

"Disappear?" Peter asked. He didn't worry about the blowing up part, since the others hadn't even flinched.

"The jets have stealth capabilities," Clint explained. "All _kinds_ of nifty tech. We're adding a mirror paneling to this one – to see if it would be harder to see, depending on the weather."

"We'll see the effect from out here," Steve added. "So we need eyes on the ground – so to speak. This evening we'll test it against the ground radar and some live spotters at Saratoga Springs Naval base, if you're interested in coming."

Peter nodded, once again feeling the rush of excitement and cheer that came from being included in such an amazing group. The cloak crooned cheerfully in his mind, just happy that he was happy.

They walked away from the jet, with Steve moving the lift off to one side while Barton entered the rear of the jet and closed it up. A moment later the three of them watched as the mirror technology seemed to flow over the plane, encasing it in what Peter decided looked exactly like a mirror. He could even see his reflection in it.

"Wow."

"It's like the one they have on the heliocarrier," Steve explained – which meant nothing to Peter. "But this one is also designed to change its configuration when needed – in case there are fighters flying near it that it needs to hide from."

"Wow."

"Tony designed it," Natasha told him. "Don't let him know you're impressed, okay? He's too smart for his own good, already."

Peter nodded, and they walked up to the jet, and the boy watched as his reflection on the belly of the thing changed into something that was more of a smudge. Obviously it was hiding itself.

"Very cool."

"I'd say it's a success so far," Steve said to Natasha, amused.

"Yeah."


	157. Chapter 158

It was too early to eat dinner when Natasha, Steve and Clint delivered Peter back to the lounge. Strange and Stark were finishing a game of chess but the others were in the mood for something a little more interactive, and opted for Spoons. Clint went to the bar to get the spoons and Steve and Natasha both looked over at the other table.

"Well?"

Stark shook his head.

"Not a chance."

"Stephen?" Natasha asked.

The doctor shook his head.

"I don't _think_ so."

"Too good to play with us?" she challenged with a smile.

"I've _seen_ you guys play that game," he reminded her.

" _Peter's_ playing."

Stark rolled his eyes, because he knew how this conversation was going to end, and he also knew that somehow _he_ was going to end up being roped into playing as well.

"Peter's young."

And _dumb_. He didn't say it but it was implied.

"I'm older than _you_ are," Steve reminded him.

"You're not _afraid_ , are you?" Natasha asked. "It's a _card game_. You're a _Master of the Mystic arts_ …"

Strange sighed. He was smart enough to understand the inevitable, as well.

"I don't know how to play."

It was the last defense – and a very weak one.

"We'll teach you."

Of course. He got up and moved to the other table, sitting next to Peter, who had the cloak firmly wrapped around his shoulders.

"Come on, Tony," Clint said, walking over with spoons in his hand.

"Nope."

"What's going on?" Pepper asked. She'd come by to see how Peter was doing since she hadn't heard from Tony, and could see that the group was trying to convince him to do something – she just didn't know what.

"They think _I'm_ going to play Spoons with them, just because Natasha was able to convince Stephen to play."

"You aren't afraid to play with them, are you?"

"I don't want to show them up."

She smiled, and pulled him to his feet.

"Go play with your team, Tony."

He rolled his eyes and went over to the table as well, giving in with absolutely no grace at all. Pepper opted to watch, mainly because she was still working and would probably have to leave in a bit. But again, Spoons was a fun spectator sport.

They gave Strange a quick lesson in how the game was played, reminded him that magic _wasn't_ allowed, and then Clint shuffled the cards and dealt them.

OOOOOOOOO

An hour later Nick Fury walked into the lounge and into the middle of what looked like chaos. The Avengers – _his_ Avengers as far as he was concerned – were all wrestling in the middle of the remains of a broken table with upturned chairs scattered around it. Clint Barton was on the bottom of the pile with Stephen Strange pinned against him, trying very hard to keep what looked like a handful of spoons away from Natasha Romanoff. Romanoff was sprawled on top of Strange with what appeared to be a rug tangled up in the whole mess. The doctor was also trying to defend his own spoon from Steve Rogers, who had Tony Stark's elbow in his ear and the man himself half on top of him and half under him.

Sitting in a chair watching the melee was Peter Parker, who was holding a spoon in his hand and grinning as he watched the dog pile. _Pepper_ was also watching, but from a much safer distance. Fury walked over to her, still watching as Romanoff managed to get a spoon away from Clint, but one went flying sideways and anyone who didn't already possess a spoon scrambled after it.

"How did they convince _those_ two to play Spoons?" he asked her.

"They challenged Stephen," she told him. "Nagged him until he couldn't say no."

"And _Tony_?"

"I made him play."

He shook his head, amused.

"This is why I don't have a girlfriend."

Pepper smiled at that.

"Want to play?'

"Not with this cast," he pointed out, lifting his hand. "I'd brain someone. How's Peter doing?"

"He's _winning_."

"I meant his health."

"You'd have to ask his doctor."

Since his doctor at that moment was sprawled on the floor with Tony Stark wrestling him for a spoon, Fury just shook his head.

"It can wait."

He left without comment and Pepper watched as the free-for-all broke up, Clint coming out the loser for all that he _had_ at one point had three spoons in his hand. They started picking themselves up from the floor, none completely unscathed but all of them looking as if they were enjoying themselves.

"Last hand, I think?" Steve asked Romanoff, who looked at the broken table and the boy sitting beside it.

"Yeah. It's time to eat."

She went over to stand above Tony and Stephen, who were both still on the floor, breathing hard and apparently in no hurry to get up.

"You okay?"

Stark held up the spoon.

"Yeah."

Since he had a cut lip – probably from Steve's knee – it was clear his victory wasn't completely pain free. But it was a win, as far as he was concerned. Strange sat up, his nose bleeding freely, but he, too, had a spoon to show for it, and he scowled at her.

"This game is worse than _Risk_ ," he complained. "At least with that one my armies do the fighting – and _dying_ – for me."

"Where's the fun in that?" she asked offering him one hand and Tony the other, pulling both men to their feet at the same time. "We'd better get something for your face."

Steve and Clint started righting chairs and picking up the remains of the table – which was not going to be useable any time soon, Pepper could see. Peter helped them stack the pieces in a corner where they could be picked up later.

Tony walked over to Pepper and she tisked over the cut on his lip, reaching over the bar for a napkin and some ice to put in it.

"Poor baby."

He shook his head, taking the impromptu icepack from her and pressing it against his lip.

" _You_ did this to me."

"I know. And you're so _brave_."

Hardly mollified, he watched the others, and had to smile a little, even though it hurt his lip.

"They had fun, though."

"Yes. Did you?"

"Yes. Which doesn't mean I want to play again any time soon."

"It will probably be a while before we convince Stephen to play again, either," Pepper pointed out, watching as Natasha pressed him into a chair and handed the doctor an icepack for his nose. He had blood splattered on the front of his shirt and the Cloak of Levitation was draped over his shoulder, avoiding the blood but clearly trying to console him.

"It's good for him," Tony said.

He walked over to the group.

"Dinner in the commissary, I think. We've done enough damage here."

There were plenty of nods of agreement.


	158. Chapter 159

During dinner Natasha told Stark and Strange that they were going to take Peter on the test flight for the new mirror project on the jet. She didn't _ask_ them, she just informed them in a no nonsense way what she had planned. Neither man objected, although Stark did hesitate for a moment before he nodded, thinking through what the flight would entail and deciding that Romanoff was right; there was no reason Peter _couldn't_ go. He certainly looked like he wanted to.

"Go get changed and meet us on the landing pad," Steve told him, knowing the boy was too excited to eat anything else and was willing to finish early to get going.

Peter left, and Stark turned to Strange.

"You could probably go with them if you're interested. We can get you a flight suit and everything."

He smiled, but shook his head.

"Another time, certainly. But I want to go visit May before it gets too late."

"Why are you going to May's?" Pepper asked, curiously.

"I want to know how they stopped Peter's sleepwalking last time. He said he doesn't remember, so she's the obvious one to ask."

"I'll go with you," Tony offered.

"Of course."

"Let me know what you learn," Natasha told them, standing up. She knew Peter wasn't going to take long to get ready and they didn't want to leave him waiting for them.

"We will," Stark said.

"I'll walk with you," Stephen told them as the others got up to leave as well. "I doubt the cloak will want to go with Peter, so I'd better collect it and take it home, first."

"And change into a shirt that doesn't have blood on it," Tony reminded him.

A moment later Strange was once more dressed in his usual neat fashion, the new shirt accompanied by a jacket and tie. Pepper kissed Tony and told them she'd see them later, but Stark walked with the group out to the landing pad, and they discussed the new technology while they waited for Peter.

When the boy arrived the cloak immediately opted for going home rather than flying – even with Peter – and with a final caress it transferred over to Strange. He and Stark watched as the others boarded the jet and it took off, and then they, too, vanished.

OOOOOOOOO

"You're jump seat this time, Peter," Natasha told the boy as they loaded onto the Quinjet. "I need to be able to back up Clint – just in case something goes wrong."

"Not that it _will_ ," Barton told him, casually. "But when the military is involved you never know when something might happen and the wrong person will make the wrong call and try to fire a live round or something."

"Better safe than sorry," Steve added – which was fine with Peter.

While he sat in the jump seat and buckled himself into his harness – with Steve checking it, just to make sure – they explained where they were heading and what the plan was. They also figured that they could have a little fun on the way back; barrel rolls, looping, that sort of thing. All of it sounded good to Peter.

He felt the engines power up and a moment later they were rocketing into the sky.

OOOOOOOO

May looked worried when she opened the door. Not surprisingly, of course. When your nephew's doctor shows up on your doorstep in the evening – without your _nephew_ , so you know it isn't a surprise visit – then there is usually something to worry about.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

Stark was glad he'd decided to come. Not that Stephen was bad at being reassuring, but Tony knew May better, and was better at being charming and relatable. And he was _better_ at being reassuring.

"Nothing."

" _Something_ must be."

"Can we come in?" Strange asked, pointedly.

She opened the door and let them in, and both men sat on the sofa when she invited them to.

"Peter's _fine_ ," Tony told her. "We've finally got the fevers kicked, and we're trying to get some weight back on him."

"But…?"

"He's had a couple of sleepwalking episodes," Stephen said. "You mentioned to me that it has happened before, so we thought you'd be the one to ask how they were handled before – and if you know what triggered them."

"He's sleepwalking?"

"Yes," Tony told her. "It hasn't been anything serious – and we can keep it from _being_ serious – but we don't want to let it continue. If we knew what triggered them last time, we can figure out what's doing it _this_ time – and how to make it stop before it becomes a problem."

"Was it losing his parents?" Strange asked, trying to be as gentle as possible when bringing up something that might still be painful for her – after all, Peter had lost his parents, but May had lost her _brother_ and his wife.

" _I_ thought it was," May admitted. "But the child psychologist I took him to said it wasn't. She thought it was the bad dreams and the stress. Sleepwalking can be caused by lack of sleep and he wasn't sleeping well by any means."

The two men exchanged glances.

"That makes sense," Tony said. "He's been having trouble sleeping. Weird dreams."

"Nightmares?" she asked.

"No. Nothing like that. We've asked."

"He could just be remembering the delusions from when he was ill," Strange told her, knowing that _that_ wasn't the issue but obviously not able to tell her the truth about the images and dreams that the Mind stone had been sharing.

"How did you get them to stop?" Tony asked.

"Helped him sleep. Brought him to bed with me sometimes – to make sure he knew he was _safe_ , that kind of thing. A warm bath before bed. Bedtime stories, a teddy bear to hold in the nighttime, tried to keep him busy during the day so he was tired at night."

"And it worked?"

"Yeah. You're sure he's okay?"

"Of course," Tony assured her with a smile. "Come up for the weekend and see for yourself."

"But just _you_ ," Strange said. "I want to try to get the sleepwalking kicked, and Ned will _not_ help Peter sleep I've noticed."

"No, that's true."

"I'll have Happy come get you. We'll set it up."

"Thank you." She stood up and went to the kitchen table, picking up a bag which she handed to Stark, who had stood as well. "More homework."

He smiled.

"He's going to love that."

"He's _really_ okay?"

"Yes," Stephen said, sincerely. "And he said to tell you that he loves you and misses you."

"And to give you _this_ ," Tony improvised, figuring if Strange could lie to her, so could he. Anything to make her feel better about the whole thing. He set the bag on the couch and put his arms around her, pulling her into a hug.

May held him for a long moment, clearly needing the reassurance that Stark was more than willing to give her. He pressed a kiss against her cheek when she pulled away.

"Don't worry, May. He'll be home in plenty of time for your surprise birthday party. You'll see."

"If there's anything I can do, let me know."

"Come see him. That will make all the difference."

"I will."

They only stayed a short time after that, just to make sure there wasn't anything she needed. Then they left, with Tony telling her he'd send Happy on Saturday and to call him with whatever time was good for her. It was easier for her to have someone else drive than deal with the added stress of traffic and scheduling when she was already trying to just get away.

With Peter's new homework in hand, they left and then headed back to the Avenger's compound.

"She's amazing," Strange said, shaking his head when they strolled into the lounge a few minutes later. "I can't even imagine what she's going through knowing that he's better off where he is even though she'd much rather have him at home with her."

"Yeah." Tony didn't like to think about it. Instead, he slapped Strange's side with the hand that wasn't holding the bag with the homework. "Well, we'll get him fattened up and feeling better and then he can go home and run amok there and drive her crazy until she's _begging_ us to take him off her hands for a while."

"That's devious."

He approved.

"Yeah. We can take him _camping_."

"Or _not_."

"You don't like camping? How do you not like _camping_?"

"Have you ever _been_?"

"Once or twice."

"And you _still_ want to do it?"

"Sure. Fishing, cooking over a fire, sleeping out under the stars… all kinds of fun stuff."

Strange shook his head, and made a beeline for the bar.

"I need a drink."


	159. Chapter 160

It was Natasha who delivered Peter to the lounge after the flight was finished. Both were still in their flight suits and were smiling from the thrill of the aerial antics that Barton had let loose once they were finished with the testing that they had done. He hadn't held back now that he knew Peter could handle anything that he could throw at him.

Having been warned that they were landing, Tony and Stephen were waiting, sitting in the corner, playing Gin to pass the time. Both looked up when the two walked in, noticed them and walked over and sat down.

"How'd it go?" Stark asked Natasha.

"Seemed to work exactly like planned," she told him. "Steve and Clint are uploading data from the base now, and we'll go over it in the morning."

"Good." He looked at Peter. "How did it go?"

"It was great."

Stark smiled, tossing his cards onto the table.

"Glad to hear it. We went to see May."

"Is she okay?"

"Yeah," Tony was quick to reassure. "We wanted to see what she did last time about the sleepwalking. She sends her love and hugs and kisses, blah, blah, blah."

That made Peter smile, which Stark had expected.

"What did you learn?" Natasha asked.

"The common supposition at the time was that you were having dreams, you were stressed and not sleeping well, and that _that_ was what was causing the sleepwalking. May got you sleeping right, and she says that's what apparently stopped it."

"Makes sense," Natasha said. "All of that is true, now."

"We agree."

"So what did she do?"

"A lot of different things." Tony handed Peter the bag that was on the table with them. "This is homework – which you will _not_ worry about tonight. What _you're_ going to do is go to your quarters and take a long hot bath. At least an hour. Then get something comfortable on and go to bed while you're still relaxed. Can you do that?"

"Yeah."

"Okay. We will see you in the morning."

Peter took the bag and left, and all of them watched him go. Natasha turned to the others.

"What _else_ did she do?"

Strange shrugged.

"Some of it is more age appropriate for then, but not so feasible, now. May told him bedtime stories, and read to him. She had him sleeping in her bed so he'd feel safe – and I don't think he'd be comfortable with _any_ of those, really."

"I agree," Tony said. "Pepper wouldn't mind the company, I'm sure, but _he'd_ feel so awkward, he'd never get to sleep. Which would defeat the whole purpose."

"But some _are_ things that can be done," Strange said. "And we did a little research when we got back here for other possible options. The main thing is to get him sleeping. So we keep him busy during the day to tire him out – without _wearing_ him out, though. We make him feel secure when we can."

"Stephen found that there can be a pattern in when the sleepwalking happens – certain times of night during a specific part of the sleep pattern. If we somehow wake him up about that time and he goes right back to sleep, then it would mess up the sleep cycle and he might not go wandering."

"As long as we get him back to sleep so it doesn't keep him awake – which would not help."

"Friday told me Peter ended up in our quarters around four-thirty."

"He was in mine a bit earlier," Natasha told them. "But not by much. Three-thirty, maybe."

"And no idea when he hit the field. So that gives us an idea. It might not be exactly the same every time."

Natasha nodded.

"It's a _start_."

"Yes." Strange looked at Tony. "Let him sleep himself out but start the water therapy tomorrow morning – I'll swing by to help and to see how he looks when he's done, to make sure it's not too taxing. Continue the swimming lessons, if _he's_ willing and Clint is available. We can wear him out in the pool quicker than anywhere. We'll feed him every chance we get, keep him occupied and see how it goes."

The other two nodded.

"I'll go talk to Clint," Natasha said, standing up. "See you guys later."

She left while she still knew where to find him, and Strange stood up as well.

"I'm going home."

"But you have to give me a chance to win my three dollars back."

"You beat Peter because he's terrible at cards, Tony. You were _smart_ to bet so low with me. You don't have a chance to win it back."

Which was a challenge that Tony Stark could never pass up, and Strange knew him well enough by now to know it. Stark leaned forward.

"Then let's make it _interesting_ …"

OOOOOOOO

Peter was still cheerful from the flight when he reached his quarters. He dropped the bag onto the coffee table – the homework pile was becoming somewhat alarming, but he'd already been told he wasn't to do any of it that evening, so he tried to ignore it for now. He'd start it the next day, though, no matter what.

He hung the flight suit up and took the bath that he was told to take. The water was as hot as he could stand it and he started with the jets on and then simply soaked for the last half hour or so. By the time he pulled himself out of the water, feeling like he was made of rubber and with wrinkly skin, he knew he was ready for bed. He dried off and pulled on a pair of sweats and pretty much fell into his bed.

He was asleep almost immediately.

Sometime in the middle of the night, he dreamed that someone was with him. He was vaguely aware of the blankets being pulled back, and a person slipping into his bed beside him. Strong, but gentle arms gathered him up against a warm body, and then pulled the blankets up over the two of them. He started to wake – to make sure everything was okay – but hands that had soothed him many times were once more brushing his cheek and shoulder, silently telling him that things were fine and he dropped back to sleep without ever having fully woke.

OOOOOOOOO

It was almost four in the morning when Natasha felt the boy sleeping beside her stir. It pulled her from a fitful sleep – she'd been woken up every time he so much as twitched in his sleep – and she wondered if this was another of those times. Instead, though, he shifted, and made a soft noise, and then jerked awake when he felt her grip on him tighten. He rolled in her arms, and she let him loose just enough to allow the motion.

"Natasha?"

His voice was still mostly sleepy, but she could detect an underlying concern. She wondered how he'd known so immediately that it was her with him when there was only a very faint light from one of the lights outside his window and he'd been facing away from her, but figured it was one of those abilities he had.

"Yeah. Go back to sleep, Peter."

Now that he was facing her, she could brush a careful hand along his forehead and then his cheek. He was warm, but not fevered. She could see that he hadn't opened his eyes.

"Did I have a dream?" he asked.

"No. Everything is fine. _Shhh_ …"

He was quiet for a moment and she thought he might have fallen asleep. But then he spoke again.

"Did _you_?"

Romanoff smiled, touched that he was concerned.

"No. We're good. Sleep…"

He buried his face against her collarbone and did what he was told.


	160. Chapter 161

When Strange appeared in the corridor outside Peter's quarters his shiny new Avenger watch told him it was 6:30. He figured that the boy would still be asleep, but it would give him a chance to check on him, and then have a word with Tony about the day's schedule before they actually started the day. The cloak detached itself from his collar and immediately started jimmying the doorknob. Strange opened it to save it the trouble and it soared by him, clearly eager to get to Peter.

Stephen's pace was a bit more sedate as he walked through the still relatively dark living area and into Peter's bedroom. He stopped at the edge of the bed, though, which was where the _cloak_ was hovering as well. It was clearly trying to decide how _it_ was going to cuddle Peter when Natasha was already in his bed – with him huddled closely against her, her arms wrapped protectively around him and his head tucked under her chin. Both of them were sleeping.

Natasha wasn't sleeping that deeply, though. She stirred as the cloak decided to just drape itself over the boy and it brushed against her arm as it did so. She opened her eyes without moving, clearly recognizing that the cloak wasn't a threat and then turned her head up to look at him.

"Now I _am_ jealous," Stephen murmured, softly, sitting on the edge of the bed long enough to lean over her to brush a hand against Peter's forehead, checking for fever. Like Natasha had already noted, he wasn't more than just a little warm. Then he ran the same hand along her cheek, briefly, tempted to cuddle with them, they looked so comfortable.

She smiled, drowsily, and looked at the boy, most likely to make sure he was still asleep. Then she shifted enough to get his head on the pillow and slid out from beside him, tucking the cloak into the space she had vacated.

"Come get me when he wakes up," Strange told the cloak.

It lifted a corner that wasn't tucked around Peter and made a shooing motion that made both of them smile. Obviously it had learned that from _Stark_ , who used it all the time. _Peter_ never had, and Strange had never seen it do that before it had been exposed to the Avengers.

Natasha led him out of the bedroom and into the living room.

"Did _you_ teach it that?"

"No. I'll blame that on _Tony's_ bad influence. Did Peter have a troubling dream?"

"No," she answered, sitting down on the sofa and closing her eyes, obviously still sleepy, herself. She put her feet up on Peter's coffee table. "No _sleepwalking_ , either – although he woke around four and might have been getting ready to."

Strange sat down beside her and she leaned into him, her head resting on her shoulder, feeling lazy and not in any hurry to get up and start her day by getting changed out of what she'd slept in. He put his arm around her, absently.

"Did he wake you up?"

"No. I was in bed worrying about him and listening for any sounds that might indicate him sleepwalking. Since I couldn't sleep anyway I decided to come sleep with him – just in case."

"Makes sense. Has _Tony_ been by, yet?"

"No."

She would have woken if he had, she was sure.

They sat in silence for a while, him enjoying her company and her debating whether to use him as a pillow and get some more sleep, or be responsible and start her day. Eventually he spoke up.

"What are you doing today?"

Natasha stretched.

"Nothing exciting. Going over the data from the test last night. Clint is free for a swim lesson before lunch, if Peter's willing. I'll hover during that, since I promised him that I would be there any time they were in the water."

"That'll help tire him out."

"Tony probably has something in mind, too. He's usually got something up his sleeve."

"Yes, he _does_."

There was enough chagrin in his tone that Natasha opened her eyes and turned her head to look up at him.

"Oh?"

"I think he hustled me last night at Gin," Strange admitted.

"Do I dare ask if you were playing for money?"

"I wish we _were_."

"What did you bet?" she asked, curiously.

"I have to go camping with him and Peter. Five days, _no magic_. At a date still to be determined."

Romanoff smiled.

" _Seriously_?"

"Unfortunately. I'd _rather_ owe him money."

"Not a great outdoorsman?"

He simply shook his head.

"No."

"Maybe he won't hold you to it. I know _Peter_ isn't planning on calling in any of the debts you and Tony have lost to him at chess."

"Do you _really_ see Tony letting me off the hook?"

She didn't even have to think about it.

"Not a chance."

"Neither do I."

Natasha grinned and tucked his hand under hers.

"You never know. You might have a _good_ time."

"I'll probably be eaten by a bear."

OOOOOOOO

It was another half hour before the cloak came out of Peter's room, hovering at the doorway while it waited for Strange to notice it. Natasha had dozed off, comfortable where she was, but woke up when he tried to slide away from her without waking her up. She sat up, looking around.

"What – oh."

They both got up and headed into Peter's room. The cloak retreated back to the bed, where it wound itself around Peter's neck and bare shoulders like a scarf, and caressed his hair and face. He was sitting up, his head in his hands, awake but obviously still sleepy.

"Good morning," Strange told him.

"Morning."

"How do you feel?"

"Pretty good."

Strange sat on the edge of the bed, reached out and brushed a hand across his forehead.

"No fever."

"No, I'm okay, I think."

"Any dreams? Good or bad?"

Peter looked over at Natasha, his expression easy to read. He wasn't sure how to thank her, but _he_ knew what she'd done and he appreciated it.

"Only _good_ ones."

She smiled, but the doctor snorted his amusement, silently. If _he'd_ woken up where Peter had, he'd have had good dreams, too.

"Do you feel up to getting wet?" Strange asked him, not allowing his thoughts to show in his expression.

"In the pool?"

"Yes."

It was raining, but he wasn't going to stake him _outside_ , after all.

"Sure."

"Good." He stood up. "Get dressed. I'll have Tony meet us at the pool."

"Okay."

Strange looked at Natasha.

"Are you coming?"

"No. I'm going to get dressed and find Clint and Steve." She looked at Peter. "Swimming lesson before lunch?"

"Can we?"

"Clint said he's free."

"Yeah. Thanks."

Obviously the boy was over his fear of water, which was all to the good as long as it didn't make him too confident about his fledgling abilities.

"I'll see you later," Natasha told Peter with a smile and headed for the door.

"I'll walk you out," Strange said, giving him a chance to wake up more and get himself dressed. He was beyond the time when he'd needed help, after all.

The two of them walked through the living room and Natasha stopped before she opened the door.

"You'll be around for lunch?"

"I don't have a _choice_."

"Oh? Why not?"

"I didn't tell you _everything_ I lost last night when playing Gin with Tony."

 _That_ made her curious, he could tell. He'd pretty much phrased it that way on purpose just to get that reaction.

"What _else_ did you lose?"

He smiled, and shook his head.

"I'd rather not say. You'll know soon enough."

"Come on, you can tell _me_."

"Wouldn't you rather be surprised?"

"No. _Tell_ me."

She put her arms around him, giving him her best seductive look – which he didn't buy for a moment. Although he _did_ hug her and rested his chin on the top of her head for a moment.

"No."

"It's _that_ bad?"

"It's _worse_ than bad."

She let him go and frowned. Spies hated surprises – _and_ secrets. But she also knew that he wasn't going to tell her. Not without a lot more convincing, and she really didn't have the time to try.

"I'll see you before lunch?"

"Yes. I might swing by and watch the lesson to see how he's progressing."

"You should."

She left, and Strange lifted his watch, already pushing the button he needed to find out what Stark was up to. Maybe if there wasn't anything else going on after breakfast he could talk him into a rematch.


	161. Chapter 162

Tony frowned when he walked into the pool area about thirty minutes after Stephen's call. He would have been in _sooner_ , but he'd slept in – and Pepper had _let_ him – and then he'd turned smug and told her that she couldn't miss lunch with them. Which had made her ask why, of course. He wouldn't tell her; only saying that it was a surprise, and she'd spent a lot of time and energy trying to talk him into it. Which hadn't worked. She finally gave up, recognizing him at his most annoyingly stubborn, but since it wasn't serious – or he wouldn't be grinning every time he mentioned it – she let it slide and told him she'd be there.

"What is he _doing_?" he asked, walking over to stand by Strange, who was watching Peter. The cloak was hanging from the doctor's collar, also appearing to be watching him.

The boy wasn't water walking. He was in the shallow area, going from side to side, but he was on his belly, arms and legs flailing as he swam instead.

"Practicing his swimming for his upcoming lesson, I imagine," Stephen told him, not looking away from Peter.

"And you're _letting_ him?"

"Tony, I'm a magic user. If something happened – Heaven forbid – he'd be out of the pool in a second. Also, I'm a _doctor_. I know CPR and could rescue him. Not to mention, he's in three feet of water and if something feels wrong, he's smart enough to put his feet down and stand up."

Which Tony knew was true – all of it – he just didn't like the idea of Peter swimming without someone right there in the water with him. Even in three feet of water. He didn't argue, though. Instead, he watched as Peter reached the side and started back.

"He's not very graceful…"

"Put your head in the water, Peter!" Strange shouted to him, making himself heard over the sound of the few lap swimmers and the boy's splashing.

Peter stopped, standing up and proving to Tony that he was in control of where his feet were at any given time. He looked over at them, pushing his wet bangs back from his eyes.

"But then I can't breathe," he pointed out, reasonably.

"You turn your head to breathe," Strange told him, imitating the motion.

The boy started again, taking a few moments to find his rhythm – as unsteady and uncoordinated as it was – and then stuck his face into the water for a second and brought it out without turning his head sideways to breathe, and then stuck it back in for another instant. Repeating the process a dozen times as he worked his way to the edge, but not taking a breath properly once.

Tony stared in fascination, and Strange shook his head.

"He'll have to work on that."

"You _think_?"

"On the plus side, he's probably working a lot harder than just walking, so he'll tire out faster."

"True."

"What do you have planned for the day?"

"The PT sergeant and I had a talk last night. He's willing-"

"Who?"

"The guy in charge of making the kids run."

They weren't really _kids_ , of course, but they were younger than Tony, even though all of them were at least a few years older than Peter. And much larger.

"Oh. About what?"

"Playing football this morning instead of their usual forty mile hike."

"It's _raining_."

"Which will make the field muddy, so he doesn't get hurt if he gets tackled."

"Are you out of your mind? They'll kill him."

"Of course they won't. It's _flag_ football, no one gets hurt playing flag football. They'll chase each other down and run all over the field – probably get a little muddy. The guys get avoid a boring hike, and he'll have a great time and sleep all night because of it."

"Or he'll slip, break a leg and _May_ will kill you."

Tony shrugged, watching the boy struggle to learn something that he took for granted knowing how to do since he was small.

"He's always been the little guy looking in, Stephen," Stark said. "He told me once that he _wanted_ to play football, but he never could before, so he shouldn't now, just because he was different. And he's _right_ , of course, because it would definitely give something away. Besides, he doesn't have _time_ for it. But he could play, now. Just for a while. See what he can do and have some fun doing it."

Strange sighed, and it was his turn to shrug.

"We'll see how he feels after he eats."

"Good."

"Do they really hike forty miles?"

"All the time."

OOOOOOOOO

Not surprising either of them, Peter looked excited at the thought of playing football when Stark brought it up over breakfast.

Natasha frowned, though. She and Steve had joined them when the three had come in from the pool, and Clint had arrived shortly after, a plate of pancakes and sausages in hand.

"It's _raining_ out," she said. "He'll catch a cold."

"I'll wear a sweatshirt," Peter told her.

She rolled her eyes. Like _that_ was going to do anything to stop him from catching a cold.

"The rain's a perfect time to play, Nat," Rogers pointed out. "It'll mud up the field and falling won't hurt."

"We're just getting him _healthy_ ," she said, looking at Strange for a little support. "Why risk hurting him now?"

Before the doctor could say anything, Peter spoke up.

"I won't get hurt, Natasha. It would just be flag football, and I'm pretty quick. I-"

"Do you know how to play?"

Meaning, did he know how to keep himself safe from a dozen guys who were trying to run him down for a piece of inflated leather.

"I know the _rules_."

"But you've never _done_ it?"

"I've played catch with Ned."

Years ago. Before they both realized that football was for the popular kids, or athletes, and that they weren't either.

The others at the table were silent, well aware that Natasha was the one Peter had to convince – even though she technically had absolutely no say over what he was allowed to do. She frowned again, but his expression was so earnest and hopeful that she knew she wasn't going to say no. She wondered how he'd managed to wrap her around his finger, and realized that she'd probably done it to herself.

Romanoff nodded.

"Fine. But Steve and Clint are going to take you out right now and teach you the basics – _and_ play on your team."

She didn't add to keep him safe but it was obviously her intention. She looked at both men, who nodded. The data analysis that they had planned for the morning could wait. Besides, Steve enjoyed football, and knew it was even better in the rain.

"Go get changed, Peter," Rogers told him. _He_ was going to have to change, too. "We'll meet you on the field in ten minutes."

Clint looked mournfully down at his pancakes, but he got up, too. He wasn't dressed for football, either.

OOOOOOO

Less than an hour later, Natasha was standing on the side of the field, Strange beside her sharing an umbrella against the pouring rain, and Tony on her other side, also holding an umbrella. They were bundled against the chill morning but she shivered anyway, pressing slightly against Stephen. The Cloak of Levitation was attached to Strange's collar, but had draped itself over her shoulder as well, clearly willing to be a warming blanket – or maybe just trying to stay dry.

"This is a bad idea."

"He'll be _fine_ " Stark said. "You'll see."

Steve and Clint had changed into sweats and sweatshirts. Peter was wearing jeans and a sweatshirt, and all had strips of cloth hanging from Velcro belts around their waists. Around them, looking ridiculously larger than Peter, were 21 other men, also wearing flags and all focused on the football that Steve was holding.

"You could play with them," Strange told her, thinking she might feel better being right there with the boy rather than a spectator on the sidelines.

"Natasha isn't allowed to play with them anymore," Tony said. "She's too rough."

Stephen looked down at her, and she shrugged, not taking her eyes off of Peter.

"Some of them forget it's flag football and grab places that they shouldn't. I'm an invitation only type of girl."

She didn't see his reaction because she was watching as the game started, but Stark smiled.

They didn't bother with kickoffs. Each teams started with the ball at what would roughly be the twenty yard line, even though there weren't any actual lines drawn. They wouldn't have survived the rain if they'd tried.

Peter's team had defense, and Steve had made it simple for him, telling him that he just wanted to get the flag of the guy with the ball. When the ball was hiked to the other team's quarterback, Peter was in the group of people trying to get him, and while he didn't even get close, his grin told them all that it didn't matter. He just lined up where Steve gestured for him to go, and tried again the next time.

For the next hour Natasha watched as the ball went from one end of the field to the other, being chased by 24 guys who got muddier and muddier as they played. Yes, it was flag football, but the ground was slippery, the rain made the ball hard to hold, and there was always a chance that someone was going to run into someone else trying to make a play, on the ball or on the quarterback. And Peter was right in the middle of it all.

The older guys were careful with him. Not so careful that he didn't get thrown to the ground more than once, or knocked around a little when he'd have the ball in hand, but they were well aware he wasn't as big as they were, and none of them wanted anyone to get hurt. Besides, he was quick, and while the slippery ground kept him from being anywhere near as agile as he might have been on a dry field, he was hard to catch when he got into the open.

By the time the PT sergeant called the end of the game, the only one recognizable was Peter – and only because he was so much smaller than the rest. With Steve and Clint flanking him, he walked over to the small group watching, and Natasha couldn't help but smile. Yes, they were incredibly wet and muddy. Mud in their hair, on their faces, all over their clothes – front and back – and in Peter's case even up his nose, but he looked like he'd had the time of his life.

Not surprisingly, the cloak didn't even consider wrapping itself around him.

"Did you have fun?" she asked him, needlessly.

"Yeah."

"You should have played, Nat," Steve told her, his expression giving him away, but not before Clint had reached out and pulled her into a hug, muddy arms and all.

Strange prudently pulled away, the cloak immediately joining him, as Peter and Steve both joined the hug, pressing themselves against their intended target, rubbing their muddy hair against Romanoff's face and hair, their wet and muddy clothes against hers while she struggled to free herself, knowing that between the three of them she didn't have a chance. She ended up on the ground, Peter on top of her, Steve and Clint on top of him, all of them pressing her into a mud puddle the size of Lake Michigan.

"I'm going to kill you guys," she told them, laughing despite herself as they rolled off of her and got to their feet. She was soaked, now, and just as muddy as they were.

"It was worth it," Clint said. He looked at Peter. "I'm going to go change, and warm up. I'll meet you in the pool in two hours, okay?"

"Yeah."

The boy reached his hand down to Natasha, who let him pull her to her feet – a reminder that he was a lot stronger than he looked, although she already knew it.

"Go get cleaned up, Peter," Tony told him. "We'll meet back in the lounge."

"Okay."

He headed toward the building with Steve, who was going to go get changed, too.

"See?" Stark said. "He had a good time, and no harm done. I love being right."

He walked off as well, umbrella still protecting him from the rain, and Natasha had to resist throwing a mudball at his retreating back. Instead she looked at Strange, who was obviously amused by the treatment she'd received at the hands of the others.

"You could have rescued me."

He held the umbrella over her.

"And spoil your _fun_?"

She shook her head and pulled him into a hug, pressing her cheek against his and making sure he got the same treatment that she had. He struggled, one-handedly trying to hold her off and keep from dropping the umbrella, but it wasn't more than a minute before he was muddy and splattered, and he gave up, and just let her hug him. It was worth it.

The cloak wasn't nearly as amused.


	162. Chapter 163

When Peter walked into the lounge, freshly showered and wearing clean jeans and another sweatshirt he saw Stark and Strange sitting at the corner table. Tony was watching Strange clean mud off the cloak of levitation, and the boy was surprised to see that the _doctor's_ clothes were muddy, he had dried mud smeared across one cheek and all across his forehead and in his hair.

He sat down, smiling at the grumbling he could feel coming from the cloak as Strange used an odd smelling solution to keep from smearing the mud while he wiped it off. He reached over, caressing the fabric in a manner similar to the way it always petted him when it was trying to make him feel better and immediately the humming changed to something a bit less grouchy and somewhat more tolerant.

"It's not happy?" Stephen asked, looking up from what he was doing and watching the boy's interaction with the relic.

"Not really."

"How do _you_ feel?" Tony asked, his own hand reaching for Peter's forehead.

"Good."

"Tired?" Strange asked.

"A little."

"We can postpone the swimming lesson."

"No. I'm okay." Besides, it was still an hour or so before he was supposed to meet Clint. He'd probably be less tired by then. He watched Strange wiping the cloak for a moment. "Can I do that? Or is it _magic_?"

"No, it's just elbow grease." The doctor handed the towel and the jar of solution to the boy, and the cloak moved itself from in front of Strange to within Peter's reach. "Just wipe the dirty parts, and it'll come clean."

He watched Peter for a few minutes, making sure that he didn't have any questions – which he didn't – and then he and Tony started playing chess, neither in a hurry to get anything done that day, and content to spend some time with Peter without having an emergency to deal with.

Peter spent the time between the football game and his swimming lesson cleaning the cloak. It was actually soothing to do, mostly because the cloak _liked_ having him in contact with it and even though it didn't necessarily enjoy the cleaning process – and being wet because of it – it still crooned happily in his mind. He finished the last of the cleaning about the same time he was supposed to meet Clint and the cloak hovered in the air near at hand and shook itself as vigorously as a dog getting out of the tub – but without the flying water and dog hair.

"Lunch in the lounge," Tony told him when he stood up to leave for the pool, smirking at Strange, who gave a long suffering sigh but didn't say anything.

Peter nodded, wondering what that had been about but figured no one would tell him even if he asked. Then he headed to the pool. He found Natasha coming from the other direction and was happy to walk with her. She, too, was cleaned up and clearly not holding a grudge about the muddy dog pile, since she hooked her arm through his as they walked, asking what he'd been doing, and how he felt.

They separated at the locker rooms, and Clint was waiting for him when he came out, already in the water with a float to hold onto while he watched Peter swim. A minute later Natasha was there as well, and with both of them to keep him safe, he jumped into the water.

OOOOOOO

"What happened to you?" Wong asked when Strange returned to the sanctum right before lunch time.

"Flag football."

" _You_ played flag football?"

"No. I watched _Peter_ play flag football."

"How did you get so dirty?"

"They were playing in the _mud_. It's a long story."

"How is Peter doing?"

"Better. We're dealing with the sleepwalking, but the fevers are gone and he doesn't look so dreadful."

"Good. Anything you need from me?"

"No. I've got to clean up and change and then I'm going to have lunch with them. I should be back soon – unless you have something you need me to do _here_?"

Wong shrugged.

"Nothing going on right now, anyway. Enjoy yourself."

Strange just grunted and headed for the stairs. He definitely needed a shower.

OOOOOOO

Tony and Pepper were sitting at the table when Natasha and Peter returned from the swimming lesson. Pepper had decided to call it a day and spend some time with Tony – lunch at least, and maybe something in the afternoon, and when peter and Natasha joined them, the two were playing WAR, with Pepper appearing to be dominating.

"How was the lesson?" Stark asked.

Peter shrugged.

"I'm not getting it."

"You're not _sinking_ , are you?"

"No. But I don't do the breathing thing right."

Natasha pushed him down into the chair next to Pepper.

"It just takes practice."

"How are you not _breathing_ right?" Pepper asked, curiously.

Stark smiled, looking at Natasha. He set his cards down and started waving his arms, and then pretending to duck his head periodically, bringing it up and gasping. It was a pretty fair imitation of Peter in the water, and both the boy and Natasha grinned.

"Is he still doing that?" Tony asked.

"Yeah."

Pepper laughed, thinking that she should probably stop in and watch one of the lessons. Just because.

"Where's Stephen?" Natasha asked.

Tony smirked.

"He had to go change."

"Because he was muddy?" Peter asked.

"Nope."

Natasha frowned. Stark looked far too pleased with himself.

"What's going on, Tony?"

"What do you mean?" he asked innocently.

"He mentioned losing a bet with you."

"Oh, he _did_. He has to go camping with me and Peter."

Now it was Peter's turn to frown.

"We're going _camping_?"

"You don't like camping?"

"I don't know. I've never been."

"Really? You'll love it. We'll wait until you're healthier, of course – and we'll have to clear it with May. But Stephen is _really_ excited."

"What's the other bet?" Natasha asked.

"What do you mean?"

"He told me he lost _two_ bets," Natasha said. "Actually, he said you hustled him."

"I can't help that he's _bad_ at Gin, Natasha. He chose the bets that he made. And _lost_."

Now Pepper was curious, too.

"What did he lose?"

Before he could answer Peter felt the familiar tingle that came from the cloak, and he looked toward the entranceway. Sure enough, the relic was already heading his way, still looking a little darker from its cleaning earlier. The others followed his gaze, but none of them were watching the cloak approach. That was common for them.

What they weren't ready for was the sight of Stephen Strange walking through the entrance. The usually impeccably dressed doctor was wearing jeans and a bright yellow t-shirt. One that had a bright picture of Bigfoot hanging from the Space needle out in Seattle, watching a pod of Orcas through binoculars.

"Oh, no…" Pepper murmured, unable to hide her grin.

"You _didn't_ …" Natasha said, her hand coming up to her mouth, because she couldn't hide her smile, either.

"I didn't do anything," Stark told them both as the cloak slid itself into place around Peter's neck and shoulders, humming cheerfully to him. "He chose the bet."

"Seriously? What if you'd _lost_?" Pepper asked.

"Then _I'd_ be the one walking through the door wearing that eyesore."

Natasha tried to force down the smile as Strange reached the table and sat in the chair next to her. His mien acknowledged the amusement in their own expressions and he sighed when Romanoff reached out and brushed her hand against the Bigfoot picture, as if she couldn't believe that it was real.

"Well… you were right," she said to him.

"About what?"

"It's a _very_ hard shirt to look manly in."

Stark snorted.


	163. Chapter 164

Lunch was chili with cornbread and crackers, salad and apple cobbler for dessert. Peter was hungry and ate well, not saying much to the others but watching as they grinned, smiled or even giggled every time one of them looked at Doctor Strange and the shirt he was wearing. He smiled a couple of times, himself, but the novelty of the ugly t-shirt was wearing off for him as he started getting sleepy some time before he had his cobbler.

The morning had been pretty active – especially for someone who probably wasn't _quite_ ready for so much – and with the cloak crooning in his head, he found himself with his elbow on the table and his head in his hand. It was getting too heavy to hold up without that assistance.

Not surprisingly, it didn't do unnoticed.

"Time for a nap, I think," Tony said, smiling gently at the boy.

Peter didn't even argue; he just nodded, and then yawned.

"I'm going to go to my room."

"Want company?" Natasha asked.

The boy looked at Strange.

"Are you staying?"

"I _can_ , sure."

"Then I'll take the cloak."

He got up, with the cloak wrapped around his shoulders humming cheerfully in his head.

"Come find me here when you wake up," Stark told him.

"Okay."

They all watched as he left, and Pepper shook her head, amused.

"He's lost his heart to a _blanket_."

"I think it's more the vibrations that the cloak gives off," Natasha said. "He told me that it can be soothing in his mind. Besides, the cloak doesn't have a busy day or anything like that, so Peter probably figures he's not imposing on it when he asks for its company."

"It's not an _imposition_ ," Tony said.

"I _know_ that," she told him. "It's not for me, either, and I know you all agree. But _he_ almost certainly sees it that way."

"Probably."

Again, Strange was impressed by Natasha's ability to read the situations around her. He pushed his bowl back and shrugged.

"The cloak will keep him in his bed, too, so I don't mind him spending some time with it."

"How long do you have to wear that shirt?" Pepper asked.

"The exact phrasing was _through lunch_. I'm done eating."

Tony nodded his agreement, still pleased with himself, and the jeans and Seattle shirt vanished, replaced by a sharp suit, although he opted for no tie.

"Handy," Pepper said, impressed.

"It definitely has its moments," Strange agreed with a slight smile. "What are you folks doing this afternoon?"

"I'm working," Pepper answered. She stood up, leaned over and kissed Tony's temple. "As a matter of fact, I'm working, _now_. Stay out of trouble."

"Yes, dear."

Stark wasn't the only one to watch her go.

"I'm going to fall into the exciting world of data analysis," Natasha told the two men. "Steve and Clint are going to meet me to debrief on last night's tests."

"Let me know if anything interesting turns up in that," Tony reminded her. It had been his concept after all and he wanted to know how it melded with the mirror technology on the jet.

"I will." She got up as well, her hand brushing Strange's shoulder before she left. "Don't leave without saying goodbye, okay?"

"Of course."

Tony's expression was amused as they watched her leave, too.

"Watch yourself, doc," he said. "She's got a lot of big brothers here."

"She's remarkable," Strange replied, sincerely.

"Yeah, that she definitely is." He sat up a little. "Well, if you're stuck here while Peter naps why don't we start looking at a practical application to that GPS issue. If you're up for it?"

"Sound good."

They both got up as well, and headed for Stark's quarters.

OOOOOOOO

The walk to his quarters took a little longer than usual. Once Peter was on his feet, he realized that the day's activities had left his legs fairly weary and walking was a bit harder than usual. He supposed it only made sense – his arms were tired from all the swimming, too – but they didn't have anything else expected of them, just then, so he wasn't feeling it like he was feeling his legs.

The cloak crooned encouragement as he walked, which helped, but he stopped at the staircase before starting up it. The thing looked like Mount Everest just then and he didn't have one of the others to lean on. He felt a moment of cheer and the cloak flared for a moment before settling back on his shoulders, but Peter was suddenly being lifted in the air and flying slowly up the staircase without his feet touching a single step. Like it had in the Sanctum, the relic decided to save him the climb, and he appreciated it.

"Thanks."

It set him back on his feet, but he could feel that it wasn't done supporting him, because his shoes were only barely touching the floor and it didn't seem to be planning on letting him down completely. Instead it caressed his cheek and urged him on.

It was decidedly odd to walk when you felt like you only weighed twenty pounds or so, but it was so much easier on his legs that Peter reached his rooms sooner than he thought, and gave a tired sigh when he closed the door behind him. The cloak released him, letting his full weight back, and he pulled off the sweatshirt he was wearing, figuring he'd been too hot with the blankets and the cloak to want it on as well.

"Can you fly _anyone_ like that?" he asked it as he walked into his bedroom with the cloak hovering beside him. It knew he was going to be sleeping and didn't want to be wrapped around him where it might be trapped under him, so it would wait to cover him until he lay down.

There was a definite yes.

"It doesn't have to be someone who can do _magic_ , obviously," Peter said, sitting on the bed to pull his shoes off.

The feeling he got was disagreement, and he frowned, looking at it.

"It _does_?"

Its response was another yes, but also a no.

"What does _that_ mean?" Peter asked. "I can't do magic."

The cloak didn't answer, and he knew it wouldn't, since it hadn't been a yes or no question. He tried to figure out the right sort of questions to ask it, knowing that Doctor Strange would be interested if he learned something new about the thing, and he stretched out in his bed and pulled a blanket up watching the cloak as it settled on him as well.

"Can you fly anyone?"

A yes, like before.

"Even people who aren't magic users, like Doctor Strange is?"

Another yes, but the feeling that there was more to say, like the answer should be qualified, but it couldn't.

"Is there a difference between flying him and flying me?"

A yes. The cloak caressed his cheek.

"You could fly Mr. Stark?"

A yes, with a tinge of amusement that made Peter smile. He'd like to see that, really.

He gave up on the questions, figuring that whatever it was that he was trying to figure out wasn't going to come, because he was asking the questions wrong, and was only going to end up confusing both of them. Now that he was stretched out, the humming in his mind and the warmth of the cloak and blanket were more than his tired body could resist and he closed his eyes. The cloak seemed to grow a little heavier as he started to try to think of a better way to ask the questions, and the cheerful humming turned into something more of a lullaby. He couldn't concentrate on anything else, and didn't bother to try.

He fell asleep.


	164. Chapter 165

It was the cloak that woke Peter next. He'd been having an odd dream, but he couldn't really remember what it was about. It hadn't been scary, or even disturbing, but the cloak was tapping on his cheek, clearly trying to get his attention – or wake him. He came awake with a bit of a start, and looked around, stretching under the blanket and the warm weight of the heavy fabric.

"Is everything okay?" he asked it, wondering if somehow someone had told the thing to wake him.

There was a cheerful yes, and a gentle caress, but also an underlying feeling of concern directed at him. As if it were maybe asking _him_ the same thing.

He looked at his watch and found he'd been asleep for about an hour. He debated going back to sleep, but thought that if he did he might not sleep as well that night. Besides, he figured Doctor Strange might be chafing to leave, and he couldn't if Peter was monopolizing the cloak. So instead of going back to sleep he got out of bed and slid on his shoes. The cloak draped itself over one shoulder and tucked under his chin, humming contentedly in the back of his mind as he headed for the door.

He hesitated at the coffee table. The pile of homework was still definitely something that needed to be done. He decided that he'd work on it before dinner if there was time, and feeling better about that, he went out into the corridor.

"Do you know where Doctor Strange is?" he asked it, remembering that Strange had mentioned once that the cloak always seemed to know where _he_ was, so maybe it always knew where Strange was.

There was an affirmative response and it gave a gentle tug in the opposite direction of the lounge, which was going to be the first place Peter looked. He allowed it to guide him, and eventually ended up outside Stark's quarters.

Before he could decide whether to knock and bother them – if they were busy – the door opened and Pepper smiled at him, standing aside and beckoning for him to come in.

"How was the nap?" she asked, closing the door behind him.

"Okay. I was looking for Doctor Strange. I didn't mean to interrupt-"

"You're not. He's here. They're in the workroom, muttering and arguing. It'd probably be a good time to interrupt them."

He smiled at that and she led him into the workroom, were the two of them stood in the doorway, watching silently as Tony Stark and Stephen Strange stood in front of a large display, muttering to each other at a diagram of what looked to Peter like one of the watches they wore.

"What are they doing?" Peter asked.

"Something about portals and GPS," she replied with a shrug.

Tony happened to look his way just then, and he beckoned to the boy.

"Peter. Just the man we need."

He walked over, curious what he could do for them – especially if they were stumped by something.

"What are you working on?" he asked.

"Trying to figure out this spell thing Stephen wants to try. Go find someplace to be – don't tell us where it is – and then call me on your watch when you're ready."

"Someplace in the building?"

Stark looked at Strange.

"Stephen?"

"No. Let's go further out."

"Um… Okay. What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to make a portal to where you are, based on your GPS location," Strange told him.

"Can you do that?" Peter asked, impressed.

"We don't know, yet," Tony said, making a shooing motion with one hand. "Get going, so we can find out."

Peter turned and headed for the door.

"Take an umbrella," Pepper called, gesturing to the holder near the door.

He did what he was told and left their quarters, and then headed for the nearest exit. The rain was coming down pretty hard, and he was glad Pepper had mentioned the umbrella, otherwise he'd have been soaked pretty quick. Without his sweatshirt, he was also glad to have the cloak wrapped around his shoulders, keeping him warm.

He trotted across the field, perversely deciding to go into the woods near the area that Loki had attacked him – although he went a little further, just to give them as much distance as he could. Finally he stopped and hit the right button on his watch.

"Okay, Mr. Stark."

" _You're ready?"_

"Yeah."

" _Okay."_

He stood in the trees, listening to the rain hitting the leaves around him and the umbrella and waited to see what would happen next. And waited. And waited.

" _Are you near the river, Peter?"_

"No."

There was another long silence.

" _Come on back, Peter. Meet us in the lounge."_

He shook his head and slogged back across the muddy field. Obviously it hadn't done whatever they'd _wanted_ it to do. But he was still in a good mood, because he'd had a chance to be a part of their experiment. He shook the umbrella out and closed it, and then went to the lounge, where he found them sitting at the table, still going over the diagram, only now it was on a tablet screen instead of the big display they had been using in the work room.

Strange looked annoyed when Peter walked over, but it wasn't directed at him, he could tell.

"Thank you, Peter. We're not quite where we wanted to be, yet, I suppose."

"It took me a long time to get my webbing where I wanted it to be," Peter told him, understanding completely. He sat down, looking over at the display on the tablet, but not sure what he was seeing. Of course, his strengths were not magic and not really engineering as much as science and math.

"How do you feel?" Tony asked him, looking up from his own examination of the data on the screen. "That wasn't a very long nap."

"I'm okay."

"Worn out?" Strange asked, reaching out and pressing his palm against the boy's forehead. "We want you tired, but not _exhausted_ – if that makes any sense."

"My legs are a little sore," he admitted.

"Nothing more strenuous than the water therapy tonight, Tony," Strange told Stark.

"Yeah."

He started to say more, but Natasha walked into the lounge just then, smiling when she saw the three of them and coming over to join them.

"What are you guys up to?" she asked, brushing her hand along Peter's shoulder before leaning over to press a kiss against his ear.

"Failed experiments," Stark told her, holding up the tablet. "Anything good from the test data?"

He was more than capable of switching from one project to another with ease.

"It looks promising. Steve's still studying it."

"Good."

"Keep an eye on Peter, Natasha," Stephen told her. "We want him relaxing tonight."

She frowned down at the boy, suddenly worried.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah. Just a little sore. It's nothing."

Romanoff looked at Strange, who nodded.

"He's fine. But don't let him ruin all the sleep he's getting. Okay?"

"We'll keep an eye on him," she promised. "Even if we have to sit on him."

"I have a lot of homework to catch up on," Peter told them.

"That'll keep you out of trouble for a while," Stark agreed. "But we don't want you stressing too much on _homework_ , either. I certainly don't want you spending the whole night on it."

"He can work on it until right before dinner," the doctor suggested. "Then water therapy, then dinner and then something relaxing and not strenuous. Movies, for instance."

Even Strange was beginning to catch on that Peter liked movies.

Tony looked at Peter.

"Sound like a plan?"

"Yeah."

"I'm going to head back to the sanctum," Strange told them. "Do you need anything before I go?"

"No," Stark said, holding up the tablet. "I'll work on this a bit, see if I can tweak it."

"I'll be back in the morning."

With a final caress the cloak moved itself from Peter's shoulders to Strange's collar. He nodded a goodbye and was gone.

"I'm going to go over that data with Steve," Tony told Natasha. He looked at Peter. "Meet at the pool at seven okay?"

"Yeah."

"I'll walk with you to your room," Natasha told Peter, once more hooking her arm through his. "Maybe I'll take a nap."

OOOOOOOOO

He sat down on the sofa with a sigh, and opened the bag that May had sent with Stark. Not only was there a stack of various papers and worksheets, but there were two books that he had to read, an essay to write and several chapters of Math. He decided to do the Math first. It was his best subject, and if he got it out of the way the rest might not look so bad.

He picked up one of the papers and knew immediately that he was hosed. They were way ahead of where he had stopped, because he didn't even _recognize_ the formula that he was supposed to be using to solve the equations on the page. He looked at the first problem, and tapped his pen against his forehead, trying to figure out what b was going to end up being.

 _68_

He frowned, and literally looked around. The number popped into his head as if someone had spoken to him, but there hadn't been a sound. Just a sudden image of the number. Peter plugged it into the unfamiliar formula and was amazed to find it was right.

"Yes…"

He didn't know how he'd figured it out, but he'd take the right answer. He looked at the next problem, already knowing he had no idea what b was going to be this time.

 _24_

The image was there, again, and again it was the right solution. Peter smiled, feeling a surge of excitement and a bigger surge of relief. Maybe he'd be able to get through the mountain of homework, after all. At least the math part, anyway. He finished the first page in a few minutes, and moved on to the next.

He'd have Mr. Stark double check his answers, maybe, but he was pretty sure they were right.


	165. Chapter 166

By the time the alarm on his watch buzzed him to remind him that it was almost seven and time to go do water therapy, Peter had managed to work his way through a sizable amount of the math homework. Not _all_ of it – there really was a lot – and even with the assist, there was also a ton of show your work and write out this formula or that one, and that just took time. But he had made some headway.

He set the papers aside, a bit distracted by the images still running through his mind. He assumed it had to be the _Mind stone_ giving him the help. He knew _he_ wasn't smart enough to have figured all of that out on his own. Especially the things he'd never seen before. He was a bit ambiguous about the whole thing, since it was probably cheating, but as far behind as he was, it was almost certainly the only way he'd have gotten as much done as he had.

He walked to the pool, thinking about that as the formulas still ran idly through his head. It wasn't annoying, or painful, just kind of like daydreaming in a way. He told himself that he _was_ learning the math – because he _was_ – but it was a lot easier when it was just being pushed into your brain.

Peter saw Tony Stark standing near the shallow part of the pool talking to Natasha and walked over to them. Both noticed him immediately, of course.

"Get anything done?" Stark asked him, automatically looking him over for any indication that he was too tired to be in the water. Even the _shallow_ water.

"Yeah. Some of the math."

"Did you show your work?"

Peter smiled, knowing exactly where that question came from.

"Yeah. I had-"

"Let's get you in the water and get this done," Tony interrupted him. "Tell me about it over dinner."

Peter started for the edge, and Stark grabbed the collar of his shirt, stopping him.

"Peter."

He turned, and saw both of them looking at him oddly.

"What?"

"Go change."

He realized that he was still wearing his jeans and t-shirt – and shoes.

"Oh. Yeah, sorry."

He would have turned to the locker room, but Tony hadn't released his grip on the back of his shirt. Now his expression was more concerned than amused.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah. Just a little distracted."

"We can wait on this. It's not going anywhere."

Peter shook his head. The images that were distracting him were fading, as if the entity throwing them at him realized what was happening and had pulled back.

"No. No. I'm okay. Really."

Natasha put her hand on his forehead, but he wasn't even warm, really.

"Are you sure?"

He nodded.

"Yeah. Really. I'll be right back."

Stark loosened his grip enough for Peter to pull away and he headed into the locker room to change.

The two watched him, both frowning.

"That was _odd_ ," Stark said, needlessly.

"Yes. He looks okay, though. Just a little distracted."

"Have you seen that mountain of homework he has? He's never going to get it done."

"Think he's stressing about it?"

"I would be. Well, no, I _wouldn't_ be, but I've never been so far behind, either. He probably _is_. We'll discuss it at dinner. Make sure he understands that there's plenty of time, and we can help him with the harder stuff."

She nodded, and they waited until he returned, this time in trunks.

"That's better," Natasha told him with a smile. "Now you can show off those muscles."

He snorted, well aware that he was hardly an Adonis, but he _did_ flex for her, striking a body builder pose that made Stark smile, too. He was a scrawny guy, and even _scrawnier_ from his illness, but he knew the pose, anyway.

"Get in the water, Peter. I'm hungry."

OOOOOOOOO

When Peter was done, showered and back into his street clothes, they headed for the lounge. The three of them walked with the boy between the two, and Tony had his hand on Peter's shoulder, affectionately.

"We _could_ eat in the commissary," he told them. "But Pepper doesn't really like to eat there."

"Why not?" Peter asked, curiously.

"Too military for her. She doesn't like the noise, or the benches. And I like eating with _her_ , so there you go. Dinner in the lounge."

"We all make our sacrifices," Natasha said with a smile. She was well aware that Tony didn't care either way where _he_ ate.

"Exactly."

They entered the lounge and found Pepper sitting at a table looking at something on her phone, but clearly watching for them as well. She put the phone aside and smiled when they walked over.

"All done?" she asked Peter, tilting her head up for the kiss that Stark pressed against her cheek before he sat down.

"Yeah."

"Hungry?"

He nodded, sitting down across from Stark, which put the two of them between Natasha and Pepper.

"Definitely."

Tony waved to the bartender, who must have already been told what they were going to want for dinner, because she headed back to the kitchen without taking an order.

"And ready for a break, I think," Stark said.

"Yeah."

Peter hesitated, wondering how to bring up the Mind stone thing without freaking them all out. He knew he _needed_ to, because it was obviously something they'd want to know about, but they looked so cheerful, he hated to make them all worry and ruin the evening before it really began for them.

Natasha noticed, of course.

"What's wrong, Peter?"

"Nothing's _wrong_ , really," he said, picking up the spoon that was on the napkin in front of him and looking at his reflection in it, absently.

"Is something bothering you?" Tony asked.

"No. I'm okay."

Natasha threw Stark a look that told him to leave this interrogation to her. They could all tell something was up. The fact that he'd tried water therapy in jeans was definitely an indicator that he was distracted, somehow.

"Are you _tired_?" she asked.

"No. Really, I'm okay. I just…"

He trailed off, knowing he wasn't making it any better by floundering, and met her gaze.

"It's the _Mind stone_. I think."

"What about it?" Stark asked, unable to stop himself. "Is it hurting you?"

"No. I think it was helping me with my homework."

"What?"

That was obviously the last thing any of them had expected him to say, and it showed.

Peter shrugged.

"I was staring at an equation I'd never seen before, and the next thing I know an answer is in my head. I checked it, and it was right."

"Did it hurt?" Natasha asked.

"No. Just a picture in my head. Like a _daydream_ , kind of. I just thought you should know, but I didn't want to worry you."

Which he _had_ , because now they were all looking at him, concerned.

"Is it still doing it?" Tony asked.

"No. I'm okay."

"Of course you are," Pepper told him, patting his arm. "Did you get it all done?"

"Not even close," he admitted, wryly. "But a lot more than I would have gotten done on my own. Although I was thinking that Mr. Stark could check my answers – just to make sure they're right."

Tony realized what Pepper had figured out – even quicker than he and Natasha had. Peter was worrying about _them_ , while they were worrying about _him_. And they should have recognized it. The way he tried to shelter May was a big indicator at how his mind worked, and how he tried to keep others from freaking out around him. Of course, they'd had plenty to worry about lately and Peter knew it but Tony realized he was also worrying about them, and how they were holding up to the ordeal he'd been going through. No wonder the kid was so stressed.

Pepper had just shattered this portion of that worry cycle before it could really begin, by making the homework thing into something so mundane it wouldn't be any cause for concern.

She was brilliant, and he knew it, but sometimes she still impressed him.

"Of course," he told Peter. "But not tonight, okay?"

"Yeah."

Their dinner was being delivered, and it smelled amazing. Now that they didn't look so anxious about the Mind stone thing, Peter was definitely ready to eat.


	166. Chapter 167

While they ate dinner, Natasha brought up a completely different subject. One that she thought would probably prove to be a good distraction for Peter. And something that she had to admit that _she_ was kind of looking forward to.

"Don't make any plans for after lunch tomorrow," she told the boy, reaching for a piece of cherry pie and ice cream.

"What? Why not?"

He was still finishing his meal, and cherry pie wasn't really something that he liked, but there was also apple, and that he _would_ eat.

"We're going to start your self-defense training."

" _Really_?"

As she expected – and hoped – he definitely looked interested, and she knew he was probably having thoughts of Bruce Lee and other martial arts movie stars – or maybe the Karate Kid.

"Yes. The sooner the better. I've just been waiting for you to get a bit more endurance." And for the fevers to abate, of course. If he could handle flag football then she was pretty sure he could handle the workout that came with sparring.

"Provided Stephen doesn't veto the whole idea," Tony told him. "I forgot to ask him about it when he was here this afternoon."

"He _shouldn't_ ," Natasha assured Peter with a wink. "I'll go easy on you the first few times."

"Romanoff is probably the best one to teach you," Stark added. "Or maybe Steve."

"Wow."

"Don't get too excited," she warned him. "It's not as thrilling as it sounds. There's a lot of repetition involved and it can get boring."

He didn't look convinced. Just excited.

"What are you guys doing tonight?" Pepper asked, changing the subject. "Not _homework_ , I hope."

"Movies," Tony answered, looking over at Peter to make sure he agreed. When he nodded, he turned back to Pepper. "Interested?"

"Sure." It was always a good way to spend a relaxing evening – and as busy as she was a relaxing evening was hard to find. "Our quarters?"

"Yeah. They're more comfortable – and we have a bigger screen. Natasha?"

She shook her head, regretfully.

"I can't. But I'll see you guys in the morning."

OOOOOOOOO

They converged on the sofa in Stark's living area, with a bowl of popcorn and a few blankets, even though it wasn't chilly by any means. Pepper sat between Peter and Tony, with both of them leaning against her. Stark _started_ that way, and Peter ended up there when he eventually fell asleep about halfway through the movie. She didn't mind; it was homey and calm, and she liked the fact that the boy was comfortable enough with her that he could fall asleep on her.

They didn't wake him up, either. When the movie was done, Tony simply eased him into a supine position, took off his shoes and made sure he was warmly covered and had a pillow under his head. Then Pepper pressed a gentle kiss against his cheek – because she _could_ – and they turned the lights off and went to bed.

OOOOOOOO

 _He was running as fast as he could, holding the football with both hands while trying to dodge the hands that were grabbing for him. Someone was laughing behind him, a deep, happy laugh that made him laugh, too, and strong hands grabbed him from behind and swept him off his feet and into the air._

 _He dropped the ball, and wrapped his arms around his father's neck, hugging him as hard as he could, rubbing his cheek against the neatly trimmed beard that he'd always known and feeling as happy as he could ever remember being._

" _We'll work on throwing as soon as you can hold it in one hand."_

Peter woke, feeling a rush of cheer that faded a bit as he realized that he wasn't going to ever feel that again. He sat up, and looked around, and threw the blankets back, getting clumsily to his feet and heading for the door.

Friday was immediately alert, and a soft chime woke Tony Stark as soon as the boy left. He looked around inn the dark, sleepily.

"Yeah?"

" _Peter is leaving."_

Pepper rolled over, awake as well.

"Is he sleepwalking?" she asked Tony.

"Where's he going, Friday?" Stark asked, sitting up.

" _Tracking…"_ A few minutes later. _"He's walking in the direction of his quarters."_

Stark nodded, looking down at Pepper.

"He must have decided his bed would be more comfortable…"

"Maybe."

"Friday, let me know if he goes outside or _anywhere_ near the pool."

" _Of course."_

Both of them relaxed a bit. Pepper went to sleep almost immediately, but Tony waited long enough to be sure he wasn't going to be needed before he allowed himself to relax enough to go back to sleep.

OOOOOOO

Natasha woke when she heard her door open. She lay still for a moment, listening, but didn't hear anything and wondered if maybe it wasn't actually _her_ door that had opened. Steve had a tendency to go for runs in the middle of the night, and sometimes down to the truck stop for a midnight snack when he wanted something hot to eat – or someone new to talk to. She might have heard him coming, or going, and just _thought_ it was her door.

She closed her eyes again, but then heard the very soft squeak that was made when someone opened her bedroom door and walked in. Since there were very few people who would do that without announcing themselves – and even _fewer_ that would do it so early – or late, depending on how you looked at it, she pushed the blankets back and sat up.

Just in time for Peter to sit down on the edge of her bed. In the faint light coming from the field lights outside her window she could see his eyes were open and wet, but she wasn't sure if he was actually _awake_ or not. She reached out and brushed his hair back from his forehead, thinking absently that he was definitely due a haircut sometime soon.

"What happened, Peter?" she asked him. "Bad dream?"

He didn't answer; he just shook his head and looked away, and Natasha felt him shiver. She didn't know if it was from cold or from reaction to whatever it was that had brought him to her, looking for comfort, but it didn't matter, really. She got him into her bed, and pulled him into her arms, his wet cheeks smearing tears along her shoulder when he rested his head against her neck.

Natasha reached down with her free hand and pulled her blankets up over the two of them, tucking them around him and then rested her chin on the top of his head.

"I've got you," she told him, rocking him slightly.

She felt him put his arms around her, and he sighed against her neck, but it was a long time before he relaxed and even longer before he stopped shivering and fell asleep.


	167. Chapter 168

_A/N: Just a little fluff to start the day with._

OOOOOOOOOO

A gentle hand brushing against her cheek woke Natasha from a sound sleep. It was uncommon for her to sleep so soundly that someone could come up to her like that, but she knew even before she opened her eyes that it would be someone she was familiar with - and comfortable with. No matter how tired she was – and she really _was_ tired – no stranger ever would have gotten close to her when she was so vulnerable.

Stephen Strange smiled down at her when she opened her eyes, though, and his hand stayed on her cheek.

"Good morning," he murmured softly.

"Hi."

"Bad dream?"

She turned her head to look at the boy who was sleeping in her arms, his head cradled against her shoulder and his hand pressed against her stomach under the blankets they were sharing. The Cloak of Levitation had already draped itself over them, as well, and when she moved it brought a corner up to caress her cheek next to Strange's hand. She figured it probably would have preferred to cuddle with Peter, but it seemed to understand when to allow him to sleep and when it could be all over him.

"I'm not sure," she admitted. "He was upset, but he never said a word. I don't even know if he was _awake_."

"Did he come here? Or did you move him here?"

"He came to me this time. I assumed he was going to end up sleeping on Tony's couch."

"He's a lucky kid, to have you to take care of him."

"He has _you_ , too," she pointed out. "How many fifteen year olds have brain surgeons making house calls to check on them at all hours of the day?"

"He's not the only reason I come," Strange admitted.

That made her smile and she brought her hand up to touch his cheek for a moment.

"You say the nicest things."

He shrugged.

"You look tired. Go back to sleep for a while."

She didn't even argue. She _was_ tired. And she was warm and comfortable right where she was.

"Where are you going to be?"

"I'll find a cup of coffee and be in the lounge. Let me know when you wake up and he does his water therapy. I want to see how he feels."

"Okay."

He leaned over Peter's sleeping form and brushed a kiss against her cheek – and was promptly slapped by the cloak, which didn't appreciate being pinned between them and told him so the only way that it could.

"None of that," Strange told it, misinterpreting the gesture as jealousy, since he couldn't feel the annoyance that it was giving off in spades just then.

Natasha smiled, and brushed his cheek with her hand once more, but then Peter stirred, slightly, roused by the irritation he was feeling in his mind, but soothed in turn by being between two warm bodies. Considering the dream he'd had, and the deep voice he was hearing, it was no surprise that his tired mind came to an immediate conclusion – erroneous though it was.

"Dad…?"

It was just a whisper, and Natasha thought her heart would break. She looked at Strange, and couldn't read the expression on his face just then. The doctor pressed his cheek lightly against the boy's, his hand brushing against his head.

"Shhhh… go back to sleep, Peter," he murmured, gently.

The boy's hand came up, brushed against Strange's chin for the briefest moment, and then dropped back to the cloak. He muttered something, but had never really been awake in the first place, so it wasn't but a moment before he was asleep again.

"Smooth," Natasha whispered.

"I'm a doctor," he reminded her, just as softly. "It's all in the bedside manner."

Rather than risk waking Peter again, he shifted a piece of the cloak to cover Natasha, and then moved off the bed.

"I'll see you in a while."

She nodded, closed her eyes and went back to sleep.

OOOOOOOOOOO

It was Peter who woke her next. The sun was shining brightly in the window of her bedroom and she felt him stirring beside her, obviously just waking up. Natasha looked at him, wanting to see his expression when he opened his eyes, knowing that it might tell her what had happened the night before – in case he proved unwilling to.

He pulled his head back, but didn't move away from her embrace. His eyes were a little puffy, from sleepiness or from being upset earlier – or maybe both – but he didn't look upset. Not like he had when he'd had the nightmare about the dying child.

"Good morning," she told him, brushing her hand along his forehead, pushing his hair out of his eyes. "How do you feel?"

"Tired." He looked around – probably looking for his fridge to see if he was in his own room or if he'd woken up somewhere else again, and then looked back at her. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay." She told him, sincerely. "Bad dream?"

He shook his head.

"A _good_ one."

"Really?"

He nodded.

"I dreamed about my dad…" She thought he must have been thinking of when he'd mistaken Stephen for his father earlier, but Peter sat up a little. "He was teaching me to play football. Kind of. I was pretty little."

"Did the Mind stone make you dream it?"

"No. It's one of _mine_ ," he told her. His eyes grew a little sad. "One of the few I can remember, really. Even then I forget about the details. Like that my dad had a beard, and he looked a lot like May – which makes sense, I guess."

"Yeah. What else do you remember?" she asked, curiously. He certainly didn't seem to be upset discussing the dream. She wondered what had upset him the night before.

"Not a lot." He shrugged, looking away like he had the night before. "It's more of a reminder of what I lost – and won't have again."

Romanoff sat up, and put her arms around him, pinning the cloak between the two of them. Surprising him, the thing didn't grumble at all, it just crooned cheerfully, as if adding its own brand of comfort. Peter pressed his face against her neck once more, and closed his eyes.

"Thanks, Natasha," he told her, finally, pulling away with a little regret. If there were such a thing as a living security blanket, it was her.

"You know I'm here for you, right?" she asked.

"Yeah."

"Even if it means giving up some of my bed."

Peter smiled.

"I'm probably too old to be crawling into your bed every time I need a hug."

She grinned, ready to change the tone of their conversation from sappy – and he'd just given her the perfect opening.

"And too _young_ to be crawling into it for any other reason."

He blushed a brilliant shade of red – as she'd expected him to – and she laughed, leaning forward and pressing a kiss against his cheek.

"Stephen wants to see how you're feeling before he lets you into the water this morning. Are you ready to get up?"

"Yeah."


	168. Chapter 169

Peter didn't bother to change out of the clothes that he'd slept in. He was going to be changing for water therapy anyway so he didn't see the sense in it. He waited for Natasha to change and then the two headed for the lounge, where she said Strange had told her that he'd be.

He was, too. He and Stark were sitting at a table in the corner, drinking coffee and looking at the tablet that Tony had on the table between them. Probably trying to figure out the GPS thing, Peter decided. Both men looked over at them as they walked up.

"Where are your _shoes_?" Strange asked, looking down at the boy's sock-covered feet.

Peter shrugged.

"No idea."

"You left them in my quarters last night," Tony told him. "We'll swing by and get them later."

"Okay."

"How are you feeling?" Strange asked once he and Natasha had seated themselves.

"Good."

"Rested?"

"Yes."

"How are the legs?"

"I'm okay."

"Good. Back to the pool, then."

Stark nodded his approval of that, and then looked at Romanoff.

"What time do you want him in the gym?"

"I _was_ going to start him after lunch, but I think it'd be better to not have a full stomach, so how about eleven or so?"

"What's this?" Strange asked.

"Natasha's going to teach me self-defense," Peter told him, wondering if that would start a debate about if he was ready for that much activity or not. The doctor just nodded, though.

"Good idea. Do you mind if I watch?"

Peter shook his head. _He_ didn't care. He looked at Natasha, wondering if she minded but she shook hers as well.

"You're welcome to come see what we're doing."

"Thank you." He looked at Stark. "What else is on your schedule for this morning?"

"Did you have something in mind?"

"If Peter's willing, I'd like to see this homework thing."

Peter wasn't at all surprised that Mr. Stark had told Dr. Strange about the Mind stone helping him with his homework. He was relieved that the doctor seemed far more interested in it than _concerned_ by it. There wasn't anything in his expression that told Peter he was worried.

"I don't know if it will do it again," he admitted. "I don't mind if you watch – I need to do the homework anyway – but it might just end up with you watching me do some boring math problems."

"I'll take that risk."

"And I'll go over what you already did, okay?" Stark offered.

"Thanks."

"After water therapy _and_ after breakfast."

"Right."

"I need to go get some things done to clear my schedule," Natasha told them. She looked at Peter. "Come to the gym that Clint and I took you to, okay?"

"Yes."

She got up and brushed her hand along his shoulder before she left, and the three of them watched her leave. Even the cloak seemed to be watching from where it was hanging over Peter's shoulder.

"Well," Stark said, standing up. "I'm hungry. Let's get the pool out of the way."

OOOOOOO

"These look right to me," Tony told him an hour and a half later.

They were in his quarters, sitting on his sofa, and Stark had reached for the first page of completed math problems, studying them.

"I checked the first few when the numbers popped into my head," Peter said.

"Why do the interesting things always happen when I'm not _here_?" Strange muttered. "Do you do that on purpose?"

Peter smiled, and shook his head, and Strange shared an amused look with Stark.

Over their coffee that morning – before Natasha had arrived with Peter – Tony had shared the epiphany he'd had about what might be stressing Peter that none of them might have caught. Including _Peter_ , himself. It had made complete sense to Strange once it had been pointed out to him. Peter was stressing over what he perceived as a multitude of problems he was causing for those around him. _They_ didn't see it that way, of course, but Tony was right; Peter almost certainly did – and was trying to figure out how to keep everyone from freaking out because of him.

So the trick, they decided, was to stop letting him know they were concerned. They'd keep the questions casual and as succinct as possible, and keep their worry from showing when something came up that they should worry about. Stark had mentioned he would talk to Natasha about it as well, but Strange doubted he had had a chance to as of yet.

"So you were just looking at the paper?"

"Yeah."

"And it tingled?"

"No. It's not close enough to tingle," Peter told him. "All it is is basically a picture – like daydreaming, I guess."

Strange picked up one of the incomplete math papers and handed it to him.

"Give it a whirl."

Peter nodded and looked at the first problem, silently hoping for a little help.

He received it instantly.

"790."

Stark took the paper from him before Strange could and looked at the paper.

"The first problem?"

"Yes."

"That's right."

"That's amazing," Strange said, taking the paper from Tony and looking at it as well, doing the problem in his head.

"It fits, though," Stark told them both. "Vision is an AI – he's JARVIS, and the web, and has access to pretty much everything that has to do with information – like _Friday_ does, only upgraded. The Mind stone has access to Vision and is – we're pretty sure – where these answers are coming from."

"No Trivial Pursuit with you, young man," Strange told Peter, who smiled despite his own concerns that Mr. Stark and Dr. Strange were going to worry about what they should do about what the Mind stone was doing. He was surprised they weren't frowning, and checking his forehead for fever, or anything.

"I wouldn't do that," Peter said. "It'd be cheating."

"One question doesn't prove anything," Tony told Peter, gesturing for Strange to hand the paper back to the boy. "It could have been a lucky guess for all we really know. Finish the page."

Peter nodded and picked up his pen and ran through the problems without hesitation – although he didn't stop to show his work, only because he didn't want to keep them waiting while he did. The two men watched him silently and when he handed the finished page to Tony, Stephen moved to be able to look over his shoulder while he checked the answers.

"You didn't show your work," Stark pointed out.

"I'll go back later and do it."

"Don't forget."

"I won't."

"They're all _right_ , though," Strange said. "And he didn't look up any of the formulas."

"Or touch a calculator."

"Or count on his fingers."

Tony looked over at Peter.

"What do _you_ think about this?"

"I think it's cheating," Peter admitted. "But I'm pretty far behind…"

"It's not like you're doing it on purpose," Strange pointed out.

"I _am_ ," Peter corrected. "I mean, I'm not telling it to butt out or anything."

"I doubt it would, even if you did."

"As far as I'm concerned, Peter," Stark said, shrugging. "Use it to do the homework. Any help you can get to get out from under the mountain of papers should be taken advantage of. _Don't_ use it for anything nefarious."

Strange smiled.

" _Nefarious_ , Tony? Really?"

"It's called a _vocabulary_ , Stephen," Stark told him, throwing his own words back at him from a much earlier conversation that they'd had – and obviously one that _Strange_ remembered, as well. "You should try it some time."

Peter's smile proved that he remembered that conversation as well. And there was a bit more relief since he really could use the help with the homework.

"And don't let it give you the impression that you can do something you can't," Strange warned him.

"Like what?" Peter asked.

"If it tells you how to swim, don't assume you _can_. Or if it tells you it can teach you how to fly the jet, assume that it is mistaken and you _can't_."

Stark only barely managed to force down the alarm in his expression as he realized that that had been a very real likelihood. He was glad Stephen had thought of it and thought to warn Peter about the possibility.

"Right."

"Okay."

"Since you're started," Tony said. "Why don't you use the morning to work on homework? That way you have some of it out of the way and we can have the rest of the day for more interesting things."

One less thing to worry about, after all.

Peter nodded.


	169. Chapter 170

"Comfortable? Loose?"

"Yeah."

"Nervous?"

"No."

Natasha smiled.

"Good."

They were standing on a mat, facing each other. Both wearing sweats and a t-shirt – and no shoes. Silently watching from the side were Stark, Strange, Steve Rogers and Barton, who knew about the first lesson and decided that they were curious to see how Peter would do.

"We're just going to start with easy defense, okay?" Natasha told him. "I'm not going to teach you a particular discipline, because I don't want you hung up on labels right now. We'll specialize things a little more as you advance. Okay?"

He smiled, excited.

"Okay."

Natasha showed him how to block a punch. She showed him three blocks; high, medium and low, and then had him repeat them several times until she was sure he was comfortable with the motions.

"Watch my hips," she told him. "That's always going to tell you what I'm going to do."

He nodded, and she threw a punch at him.

Peter knew it was coming before her hips even moved, and even knew it was going to be high. He brought his arm up and stopped it and Romanoff stepped back, smiling.

"Perfect."

Peter beamed.

This time she came at him with two swings, one from her left, and then a right. The first was high, the next was low. Peter blocked them both, again knowing that they were coming in plenty of time to get his arms up. His spider senses were definitely an asset in self-defense, he decided.

"Good." Natasha was genuinely impressed. "I'm going to come at you at ¾ speed or so, but with several punches, okay?"

"Okay."

Of course, an actual assailant wouldn't _warn_ him, but she didn't want him to be startled. She did just that, though, a flurry of blows that drove him backward but that were all blocked. She didn't even get close.

She wasn't the only one impressed.

"He's fast," Steve murmured to Stark.

"Yeah?"

Tony knew some self-defense, but in the Ironman suit it wasn't really important that he be an expert and he wasn't, so he was pleased that Steve was impressed – because Steve _was_ an expert.

"Yeah."

Natasha had brought her and Peter back to where they'd started, and then did it again. And again. And then went to full speed and drove him back over and over but never landed a blow.

"That was great, Peter," she told him. "You're a natural."

"Or you're a good _teacher_."

She smiled at that.

"How do you feel?"

"Okay."

"Now _you_ try to land on me. Just like you saw me doing it."

He hesitated, and then swung at her. It was slow, sloppy and didn't even come close. Natasha blocked it easily.

"Faster, Peter," she told him. "It's okay."

He tried again, but once more it wasn't close. She blocked it, and then just to mix things up, she swung at him with the hand that hadn't blocked the blow, and Peter's arm came up automatically and stopped it.

" _This_ might be a problem…" Steve said, softly.

Stark looked over at him, surprised.

"What?"

He didn't see anything. Steve shook his head, his eyes on the two on the mat.

"I might be wrong. Watch."

The lesson continued, but it wasn't going as well, now. Peter's defense was incredible. Natasha was going full speed at him and honestly giving a real effort to hit him, but couldn't land a blow. His _offense_ , on the other hand, was anything but, and he wasn't even getting close to her. It was like he wasn't even trying.

Natasha noticed the inconsistency immediately, of course. She gave him every opportunity to land a blow, figuring he just needed a little self-confidence, but he didn't land on her and finally she stopped the lesson.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes."

"What's going on? You're not trying."

"I _am_ ," he told her. "Maybe I can just learn the _defense_ part…? You know, keep you from hitting me long enough to get away – like Clint said."

"You need to learn the offense as well," she said. "That's how you keep someone from coming after you once your back is turned."

Now Tony understood what Steve had seen so much quicker than he had. And probably even faster than _Natasha_ had. Peter had no problem keeping Natasha from hitting him, but he obviously didn't want to chance landing a blow and potentially hurting her. It might have been because she was a _woman_ , and he had probably been raised knowing that women weren't to be hit, but it was probably more that it was _Natasha_.

Stark was well aware that there was a very close relationship between Peter and Natasha, and he decided that _that_ was probably what was getting in the way.

"Try again," Natasha told him.

He swung at her, and she didn't try to block it. Peter pulled the punch before it landed.

"Yeah," Steve said, still only to Stark, although Strange was close enough to hear it as well. " _That's_ a problem."

"Peter…" Natasha's tone was reproving.

"I'm sorry."

He _looked_ sorry, too, but he had that set of his jaw that Stark recognized as the boy at his most stubborn – and something that Natasha probably didn't. She hadn't been exposed to it like Tony had.

"We talked about this. You have to try to win. You said you would."

"That was _chess_."

This was different.

"It's the same _concept_. I can't-"

Tony stepped forward, interrupting before they could start arguing.

"Let me talk to him a minute, Natasha," he said, taking Peter's arm and pulling him to the side before she could tell him to butt out. He took Peter out of earshot. "What's going on?'

"Nothing."

"She's right, you're not _trying_."

"I _am_ ," he said. "She can't land on me."

"That's not what I mean, and you _know_ it. Is it because she's a woman?"

"No."

"She's fast, Peter. You're not going to land on her."

"I'm _not_ going to swing at her."

"Because you _love_ her."

"Yeah. I mean, _no_. Well yeah. Not like insert tab A into slot B or anything but-"

"What?" Tony frowned, completely confused.

Peter reddened.

"You know, tab A into-"

"What are you _talking_ about?"

"Tab-" the boy scowled. "It's how May explained –"

"Did she give you the sex talk in an _IKEA_?" Stark asked incredulously. Of course, even as he said it, he decided that with a techie kid like Peter, that might have been _genius_. But this wasn't the place to discuss it. He changed the conversation back to the subject at hand. "You're not going to hurt her, Peter."

"I already broke her nose," he reminded him. "Remember?"

"That's different."

Peter didn't agree and it showed. Stark was at a loss. He had managed to clarify the problem, but didn't have a solution. He looked over at Natasha, who was waiting, and he shrugged.

Strange walked over to Romanoff. He understood the problem, too now, of course, and he could see the frustration everyone involved was displaying.

"He's afraid to hurt you."

"He needs to get over it, though," she told him. "We can't _just_ teach him the defense."

"Spar with me," Stephen suggested. "Or with Steve. Let him see that you can take care of yourself. He might come around, then."

She looked at him, dubiously, and he understood the look. He knew he didn't really exude martial art master after all. But he'd seen some of her style during the lesson and he was sure he could hold his own with her.

"Are you sure?"

He raised an eyebrow at her.

"Is Peter the only one with a block?"

Touché.

Romanoff waved Tony over, gesturing for him to bring Peter. When they were gathered she looked at the boy.

"I want you to watch me spar with Stephen. And I want you to watch what he does, and then I want you to _do_ it when your turn comes."

"But-"

"Don't argue with me on this, Peter. It's too important."

"What if I hurt you?"

"Then it will be an _accident_ , and I'll pick myself up and we'll keep going. The same thing we'll do if I hit you and hurt you."

She locked eyes with him and the others watched as the two of them had a silent battle of wills. The same thing that caused the whole issue was his undoing, of course. No matter how stubborn he was. It took him a minute, though, to work through it and realize it.

"I'll watch."

She nodded, accepting that, and gestured for Strange to take Peter's place. The cloak, which had been hanging from the doctor's collar during Peter's lesson, transferred itself over to Peter, who idly stroked the fabric, taking some solace in the cheerful humming in what was otherwise a troubled mind.

The doctor wasn't dressed for sparring, but all he did was hand Stark his jacket. He smiled at Natasha as he stepped into position.

"I'll go offense."

She nodded, and he did just that, driving her backward with a flurry of blows that he knew he didn't have to hold back on. She blocked each one, and smiled when he stepped back to allow her to return to her starting position, clearly pleasantly surprised at his ability.

"Again."

He repeated his attack, and this time Natasha added an attack of her own at the end of it, which he was able to deflect.

"Wow…"

Peter wasn't the only one surprised. Tony looked over at Rogers and Barton, clearly impressed, and saw his expression echoed in their own faces. Obviously Strange was the real deal.

They made a few more passes, and then Natasha called a stop to it and looked over at Peter again.

"Ready?"

"No."

She smiled, not at all upset with him, now.

"Give Stephen his cloak back and show me what you've got."

Peter stepped up and the Cloak of Levitation switched back over to Strange, who took his jacket back from Tony and stood beside him, watching to see what would happen.

Natasha took her place and waited, and the boy took a deep breath and took a swing at her. It wasn't perfect, and it might not have been full power, but it was an actual attempt and Romanoff blocked it.

"Again."

He repeated the effort, and she blocked him again and then with a bit more confidence he tried multiple blows, sending her backwards, but not landing a hit on her. Natasha laughed, pulling him into a hug and pressing a kiss against his cheek, pleased with his courage and willingness to rise above his own limitations and more than willing to show him just how much.

"Well do it a few more times, and then we'll go have lunch, okay?"

"Okay."


	170. Chapter 171

"Where did you learn to fight?" Peter asked Strange when they sat down for lunch in the commissary.

The doctor was sitting beside Natasha and Clint, who were across from Peter, Stark and Steve.

The boy wasn't the only one interested in the answer, of course. They were all listening, but Strange didn't mind. He buttered a roll.

"The same place I learned magic."

"Oh."

"They really come as a package deal," he told Peter. "Magic requires incredible discipline to use it properly – and _responsibly_ – and martial arts training provides that discipline."

" _And_ teaches you how to kick some serious rear," Clint added.

Strange smiled.

"That, too."

"But you don't really _need_ to know how to fight," Peter pointed out. "With magic you can just turn them into frogs or something."

"You can't _really_ turn someone into a frog, though, right?" Steve asked, curiously.

"I've never tried," Strange admitted. "There's probably a spell somewhere, though. It doesn't hurt t have the ability to defend myself, though."

"Well, we might end up using you as a sparring partner for Peter sometime," Natasha warned him. "I can't be the only one he spars with, and the more styles he has a chance to see, the better for him. Between myself, Steve, Clint and you, we can give him enough different looks that chances are he won't ever run up against something he can't handle."

"Sure."

Like he would say no?

Tony looked at Peter.

"How do you feel?"

"Good."

"Sore?"

"No."

"Feel up to showing these guys what you're capable of? A demonstration like you gave Stephen?"

"Yeah."

"I know they saw some of it on the video from the readiness drill that you interrupted." He smiled at Peter's grimace at the memory. "But it didn't show your real capabilities. If they have a clear idea of what you can do, then Natasha can tailor your hand to hand to fit your own personal style. Since you're probably never going to be as burly as Steve here, it's going to be interesting to see what she chooses for you."

He nodded. That made sense.

OOOOOOOOOO

Peter had to stop in his quarters for his web shooters. Strange walked with him, while the others headed for the gym to make sure there were various objects laying around and that no one was using the room just then.

The doctor didn't say anything as they walked, but he had his hand on Peter's shoulder, companionably. The cloak was hovering between them, one edge caressing Peter's hair, the other side on Strange's shoulder, in imitation of the doctor's hand on Peter's, which amused both of them.

"We'll try to keep the cloak from interfering with your demonstration like it did for the one you gave me," Strange told him when they reached the boy's quarters and he went into his room and got his shooters slipping them onto his wrists.

"Yeah." He looked at the cloak. "You'll stay with Dr. Strange right?"

There was a decided negative answer, and it rubbed his hair again.

"We'll work on it," Peter said as they headed for the door.

OOOOOOOO

The others were waiting, standing on the sideline of the basketball court when they walked in.

"Keep the cloak with you, Stephen," Stark told him, not realizing that he was echoing a conversation that they'd already had. "I don't want Peter taking a fall like last time."

"We're working on it."

Peter told the cloak to hang out with the others, reminding it that he was good at swinging and that he wasn't going to need rescuing when he started his demonstration. It grumbled in his mind, stubbornly, and he couldn't help but smile, wondering if dealing with the cloak was like how Natasha felt when dealing with him in the hand to hand thing.

"Go on," he told it, running his fingers along the cloth to reassure it. "Keep Doctor Strange and Natasha company while I do this."

More grumbling, but it did as it was told, draping itself over Strange's shoulder and then reaching a corner toward Natasha.

Peter looked around the room, deciding where he wanted to start and what he wanted to do with the items strewn around the floor and the metal crossbeams overhead. Then he shot a web at the highest point and swung himself up, shooting another web at a different crossbeam to allow himself a good swing. As he did, he turned and shot a web at a football and jerked it off the floor toward himself and caught it while he swung across the room one handed, gaining speed with the motion.

A basketball went through a hoop, several more objects were picked up and pinned to the wall or the ceiling with precision that was unequaled, and he showed the agility that came with swinging through the city night after night – and sometimes during the day, of course.

"Peter!" Stark shouted to get his attention as he swung by, and then threw a baseball at him.

The boy didn't even bother with a web, he just reached out and caught it barehanded and tossed it back to him on the next flyby.

"That's impressive," Steve said, watching as the boy landed on the ceiling and stayed there as if he were simply waiting in line for a bus or something. Upside down.

"Yeah it is," Barton agreed.

"Peter," Steve called. "Can that stuff hold my weight?"

"Yeah."

"Can _you_?"

"Sure."

"See if you can swing me up to the top of the basketball hoop."

The boy shot a web at Steve's upraised hand and with a flick of his wrist he did what Rogers told him to do, and as he swung by, Steve grabbed the top of the hoop and landed, while Peter released the webbing to keep from pulling him off balance.

"That could come in handy sometime," Natasha said. She moved away from the cloak's touch and then raised her hand. "Me, too, Peter."

He swung by, but didn't to shoot her with webbing. Instead he simply grabbed her hand and pulled her up against his side, holding her close while swinging both of them at a ridiculously fast speed toward the other basketball hoop. He deposited her there with a short blast of webbing to give her something to keep hold of for balance, and then landed in front of the three left on the floor.

Strange was amused to see the Ironman landing again, but it was ruined when the cloak flung itself at Peter and pulled him off balance in its eagerness to make sure he hadn't injured himself flying around without him.

Rogers dropped himself to the floor to join them, and a moment later Natasha did the same. Both were grinning, and Natasha shook her head.

"That was great."

"It would certainly come in handy in rescue situations wouldn't it?" Steve said. "Could you do it with an unconscious person and land them somewhere without them being able to help?"

"Yeah. I have before."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"Are you willing to try it sometime with some volunteers? With your _suit_ on, though, to keep your identity secret."

"Sure."

Who wouldn't want to run drills with the Avengers?

"He needs more practice with the suit anyway," Stark pointed out. "So that will work well."

"I'll think about applications for it," Steve promised. "Good job, Peter."

"Thanks."

"Do you guys need him for anything else?" Stark asked Natasha, Steve and Clint.

"Nope. We've seen what he can do."

"Good. Stephen and I are going to steal him, now. We'll see you at dinner."

They separated, Stark and Strange flanking Peter as they walked down the corridor.

"Are we going to work on your GPS spell thing?" Peter asked, curiously.

"Yes, but not right now," Stark said, his hand on Peter's shoulder. "Feel up to a drive?"

"Sure. Where?"

"It's a surprise," Strange told him. "You'll see when we get there."


	171. Chapter 172

They took the four door sedan. Peter sat in the back, in the middle of the seat so that he could look out the front window as well as the side ones, trying to get an idea of where they were going. The cloak had wrapped itself around his shoulders, humming contentedly in his mind. Strange and Stark were discussing the GPS spell issue and trying to figure out what had gone wrong and what they needed to do to make it go right. Without being able to look at their diagrams, however, they didn't really have a chance to argue too much about the next step.

"Are we going into the city?" Peter finally asked, recognizing that they were heading the right direction for it and the familiar skyline was coming up on the horizon.

"Yes," Stark said, looking at him in the rearview mirror.

"Are we vising May?"

"No. She is coming tomorrow for the weekend, so there's no real reason to – unless you want to?"

He shook his head. If she was going to be at the compound the next day he could wait. He didn't know what they had planned, but he didn't want them to have to go out of their way if a visit to May wasn't already in the plans.

"I can wait."

"Good." The offer had been genuine, but they were already on a tight schedule, even though Peter didn't know it.

"Where _are_ we going?" Peter asked, since they weren't talking about their project and he didn't feel that he would be interrupting, now.

"We're going to pick up Pepper when she's done working, for one thing," Stark replied. "She asked me to come get her, and I could always use the company for the drive from the compound."

"Or you could have had Doctor Strange get her the quick way," Peter pointed out, certain that he would have been willing. He seemed to get along well with Pepper.

"I could have," Tony conceded. "However driving is peaceful, and it's a good way to connect with the people around you – to see how her day went, for one thing. Or to give her a chance to unwind before coming into the quasi military feel of the compound."

Peter hadn't thought of that, but it made sense.

"We're going to go get you a haircut, also," Strange told him. "You're looking fairly hirsute, lately. We don't May thinking that we're not taking care of you."

"There's not a barber at the compound?"

"Of course there is," Stark replied. "And he has a razor and clippers and _no_ scissors. Everyone who walks out has a military cut. I'm going to take you to my place, instead. You'll like them. The staff treats a person right."

"Oh."

Peter looked over at Strange, who had to turn in the seat to see Peter, since the mirror didn't help him. The doctor shrugged.

"I could use a haircut, too, so I'm going to give them a try."

Besides, someone had to keep those two out of trouble.

Half an hour later they pulled up to the front of a building that announced itself to be a spa. One with a fancy Italian name and a small army of valets waiting out front in freshly starched uniforms.

"Are you going to act like a regular cloak and watch us get haircuts or do you want to stay in the car?" Strange asked the cloak as one valet trotted over to open the door before Tony could do it himself. Two others were already heading for Peter's door, and Strange's. The cloak flopped onto the seat, clearly having no desire to pretend to be normal, and less interest in going inside with them. It would wait for them to return.

They walked through the door, and Peter looked around with interest. The place was busy, but without really seeming to be. There was definitely a peaceful quality to the atmosphere and a woman came forward to greet them with a smile for Tony and polite interest in Strange and Peter.

"Mr. Stark, it's good to see you again. The usual?"

Stark nodded, gesturing toward his companions.

"Times three, Jessica."

"I'll be right back."

She waved over another woman who brought Stark a cup of coffee and asked Peter and Stephen what they would like to drink, then went to get it.

"Do I want to know what the usual is?" Strange asked Tony.

"A usual for _me_ is a massage, a manicure and a haircut," Stark explained. "You can have anything here, really. And probably even things not on the official price list."

Strange looked around. It was definitely high class, but that sometimes made certain activities easier to obtain, of course.

"I _bet_."

"I've never had a manicure," Peter said. "Or a massage. Maybe I should just stick with the haircut."

"Nonsense. You'll like it, I promise. It's relaxing, and you'll feel like Jell-O by the time the girls are done with you."

He and Strange had discussed the idea, and both men had decided that a massage might help Peter's stress level. He really did need the haircut, and there was definitely nothing wrong with the attentions of a pretty girl or two. As long as those attentions weren't inappropriate, and as young as Peter was, Stark knew he wouldn't have to worry about anything happening that May wouldn't approve of.

 _Strange_ , on the other hand, might be in for an interesting afternoon – if he so chose.

Before Peter could dither, they were suddenly the focus of a small group of people. Two for each of them, all young and pretty and five women and one man. The man greeted Peter, telling him he was John, and he was going to be taking care of his haircut, while Jenny – the woman who hooked her arm through Peter's – told him she was going to be doing his manicure. They whisked him away before he could say anything, and Stark didn't see his appeal for help since he, too, was being led away for a haircut.

The next hour was a blur for Peter. The haircut and manicure were okay. Jenny massaged each finger individually – which really felt good, he had to admit – while making small talk with him and John about various topics that ranged from movies, to television shows and for Peter, questions about his school. She tactfully stayed away from politics, religion or any other subject that might cause tension and he decided that it was probably something that all the people that worked there would shy away from.

Once his hair had been washed, cut and styled, and his hands had been taken care of with lotions and clippers and felt soft and almost rubbery, another woman had walked up to claim him. She introduced herself as Mikaela and led him into a small room and then promptly handed him a towel and had told him to go ahead and undress and get on the table, and she'd be right back.

Peter had frozen, of course, and stared at the closed door for a long time. He was standing where she'd left him, still holding the towel – and fully dressed – when she returned. With deference to his age, and the fact that she had to assume he'd never had a massage before, she was very careful to explain to him what she was going to do and suggested that they start with just a waist up massage.

He nodded and stripped his t-shirt off and then allowed her to position him on his belly on the table.

"Where'd you get the bruises?" she asked him, running her fingers along the yellowing discolorations that traced along his back. She'd seen the ones on his chest and belly, too, of course.

"I took a fall."

He was already uncomfortable, which hid his discomfort with the lie, and she tisked over them, but then started the massage. She warned him every time she was going to do something so he wouldn't be startled and undo all the good she was doing, and Peter finally started to relax under her ministrations, closing his eyes and understanding why Mr. Stark liked getting massages.

Mikaela used different oils for different things, but all of them were designed to either feel good or smell good and everything in the room was orientated at relaxation. He was almost asleep when she finished, and he smiled at her gentle teasing when she told him he wouldn't have been the first to fall asleep on her – it was how she knew she was good at her job.

Stark and Strange were waiting for him when she delivered him back to the lobby. Both men had fresh haircuts, their facial hair neatly trimmed and looked as relaxed and refreshed as Peter felt.

"How did he do?" Stark asked Mikaela with a smile.

"He's a trooper."

They headed for the door, and a valet was already delivering the car to the front of the building.

"Did you have a good time?" Tony asked.

"Yeah. I think so."

Strange smiled, understanding the response coming from someone who'd never had a massage before and wasn't sure what to make of the experience.

"Good. You look better. Not as shaggy."

They got in the car and were immediately greeted by the cloak, which wrapped itself around Peter, but also spared a touch for Strange – and for _Tony_ – just to make sure none of them had taken harm while out of its care. Then it draped itself over Peters shoulder, crooning cheerfully into his mind once more.

Stark drove them to the tower, where Pepper was waiting for them in the underground parking area. Strange got into the back to give her the front seat beside Tony, and she greeted all of them cheerfully – but Stark got the kiss.

As they drove out of the city, Tony asked Pepper about her day and she started telling him about people that they knew and business deals that Peter didn't understand. He tried to stay awake by talking to Strange, but the doctor was all for Peter sleeping on the way back to the compound and so he kept his answers to a minimum. With the combination of the massage, the drone of the motor of the car and the added humming coming from the cloak, which had draped itself over Peter, now, Strange observed what Tony had described to him as both amusing and somewhat endearing.

Peter lost his struggle to stay awake, unaware that all three of them were watching him, hoping that he would. His cheek ended up against Strange's arm, and the doctor shifted to make him more comfortable.

"We'll have to wake him up to eat," Stephen told Stark. "I don't want him missing any meals."

"That's fine," Tony agreed. "It's going to be low key tonight, so if he wants to sleep after dinner he can. Otherwise we're going to play board games, I think."

"Are you sticking around, Stephen?" Pepper asked, thinking she should get herself a picture of Strange with Peter sleeping against him but she already had the one with him and Natasha both using the doctor as a pillow, so why be greedy?

"Yes. For dinner at least."

Although he was tempted to stay over and see if he could get a first-hand look at Peter's sleepwalking. Unless they'd relaxed him enough to keep him in his own bed that night.

"Good. You can keep Tony out of trouble."

"I doubt it."


	172. Chapter 173

Peter was still asleep when they pulled into the parking garage and Stark turned off the car. He and Pepper both turned to look at the boy, who still had the cloak draped over him, and then at Strange.

"Do you need help with him?" Tony asked.

"No, I've got him. Where are you planning on eating? The lounge?"

"Yes."

"I'll wake him up and bring him there, then."

They nodded and got out of the car, ironically being careful not to slam the doors to avoid waking Peter. Strange reached down and unbuckled both seatbelts and then shook Peter's shoulder, gently.

"Peter, we're here."

The boy nodded agreement against his shoulder, but didn't make an effort to wake up, so Strange shook him again, a little harder.

"Okay…"

The word was mumbled and not at all an indication of someone who was waking up. Strange sighed, understanding what Tony meant, now. He looked at the cloak.

"A little help here? We need to wake him up so he can eat dinner."

The relic tapped Peter's cheek, rather than caress it as it would normally, and Strange shook him again at the same time.

"Hey, wake up."

He opened his eyes and looked up at the doctor and would have closed them again but the cloak tapped his cheek once more and he sighed, instead, and forced himself upright. He looked around, seeing only cars and other equipment that they kept in the parking garage.

"Fell asleep, huh?"

"It's understandable after a massage," Strange told him. "I almost did, too. You can sleep after dinner if you want to, but we don't want you to miss any more meals if we can avoid it. Especially with May coming tomorrow. We want you looking healthy."

He could learn, and he _was_. Using May was a good way to get Peter to do some things he'd rather not do. Stark had figured it out immediately, Strange had to admit that it took _him_ a bit longer.

"Yeah."

Peter visibly shook himself to wake up and then opened his door and got out of the car, the cloak wrapping itself around him, now, crooning cheerfully in his mind. Strange joined him, and the two of them walked to the lounge in companionable silence, the doctor resting a hand on the boy's shoulder.

Pepper, Stark and Natasha were waiting for them when they arrived, and Natasha smiled when she saw them and got up to meet them at the entrance.

"Look at my guys," she said, running her fingers through Peter's freshly shorn hair, and then brushing her hand impudently against Strange's chin. "You two look so handsome."

They _did_ , too. She liked Peter's haircut, and Strange looked sharp as ever with his new haircut and neatly trimmed facial hair.

"Gotta look good for the ladies," Peter told her, which made her laugh as they walked over to the table where Pepper and Tony were sitting. They sat down as well, Peter flanked by Natasha and Strange, and sitting across from Tony and Pepper.

"Are you hungry?" Tony asked.

"Yeah."

"So you got massages, too?" Natasha asked. "How was it?"

"Uncomfortable at first," Peter admitted, reddening a little and making them all smile knowingly. "Then it was great."

"Did you fall asleep?" she asked.

"Almost. I slept on the way here, though."

"Good. That means it did what it was supposed do. Massages are a good way to relax all out."

Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of dinner, and the adults watched Peter surreptitiously while they ate, making sure his appetite was good – which it seemed to be. He finished everything that he took and in between bites told Natasha about the spa and the people there.

"We're going to take it easy tonight," Tony told him when they were done eating and the adults were lingering over coffee. He was a little tired, too, after all. "We'll save the excitement for while May's here."

"I should go work on my homework," Peter said. "I have two books to read and a lot of Science and English."

He'd finished the Math, at least, and had made a good dent on the pile of History papers that he had stacked up. If May knew how far behind he was, though, he knew she'd probably freak.

"I don't want you sweating this homework thing, Peter," Stark told him, seriously. "You've been _sick_. Your teachers are going to understand that. If nothing else, we get Stephen to write you a note on some official letterhead explaining it."

Strange smiled at that.

"Yeah, but-"

"No _yeah buts_ ," Stark interrupted. "Work on it in the morning, when you're fresh. You'll get more done that way."

"He's right," Natasha said. "So you know he _must_ be, because it's the _only_ way I'd agree with him. Play at night, work in the morning."

He didn't need much convincing, even though the responsible corner of his mind was screaming at him that working at night _and_ working in the morning was probably what he should be doing.

"What are you going to play?"

"Monopoly."

They cleared the remains of their dinner from the table and brought out the game from the stack behind the bar. Strange was going to decline the invitation to join them and just watch instead, but Natasha talked him into playing with them and suggested he play banker – noting that Stark had a tendency to cheat and slip himself extra money whenever he was running low. So, like Peter, he allowed himself to be talked into it.

OOOOOOOOO

It shouldn't have been too surprising that Pepper was good at Monopoly. She ran Stark Enterprises, after all and that wasn't a job for someone who didn't have a keen mind and a genius level of financial acuity. It also took the ability to make sound decisions and foresight. Pepper had all of that in spades. And she was conservative enough that she could hold back on those decision until they were the right ones, and not reckless.

To an extent, Tony was similar. He, too, had a sharp mind for business decisions and was very good at making the right deal at the right time, and holding back just long enough to make sure that the deal would bear fruit not just immediately, but also in the long run. He was very good at Monopoly.

Stephen Strange was methodical and excellent at almost everything that he put his mind to. He had a bit of luck, but mostly just had the right opportunities at the right time to take advantage of them. While he and Natasha weren't the business minds that Pepper and Tony were, they were both good at games like Monopoly because they had learned patience, even if it had been the hard way.

Peter was reckless. And too soft-hearted for Monopoly. He was lucky, and made all the right rolls with the dice. He landed on the free parking so often that Strange accused him of figuring out how to magic the dice, and he hit all the right cards in the Chance and Community Chest, but he wasn't ruthless enough to take advantage of it. The others would land on his properties and perhaps not have enough cash to pay their bills, and rather than foreclose on a property or take something else from them, he'd merely shrug and tell them it was coupon night, or half off day.

Needless to say, he was bankrupt before everyone else. He had a good time, though, and rather than leave and go to his rooms, he sat on the sofa nearby and watched them play, with the Cloak of Levitation wrapped around him, keeping him warm. From the angle he was sitting at, he couldn't actually see the board or what was going on, so he simply closed his eyes, listening to their voices as they wrangled over a property, or – at times – an interpretation of a rule.

It wasn't too surprising that he eventually was lulled to sleep.

OOOOOOO

"Winner puts him to bed," Tony said, patting Strange's shoulder an hour later.

"That's fine."

"If you're sticking around, you can use the rooms you used last time. We'll make that one permanent for you."

"Thanks."

"See you in the morning?"

"Yeah."

Pepper and Tony left and the doctor turned his attention to the sleeping boy. He had no intention of trying to wake Peter up again, and no real reason to make the attempt. Natasha walked over to the sofa and watched as Strange simply scooped him up into his arms, shifting him enough to make sure he wasn't going to drop him. Peter muttered something unintelligible, brushed his hand against Strange's chin and then went back to sleep.

The motion made Romanoff smile, because she suspected it had something to do with the fact that Peter had mentioned to her that his father had had a beard. Maybe his tired mind was connecting with a fond memory. As long as it gave him comfort, she was all for it.

"I'll walk with you."

He _had_ planned on just magicking to Peter's room, but nodded, instead, and headed for the entrance, with Natasha walking beside him and the Cloak of Levitation now hovering between them rather than being pinned between Peter and Strange.

"Did you have a good time?" he asked her, wondering if she would rather have been doing something more interesting that evening than playing board games.

"Yeah. It's nice to have a chance to do something that isn't life and death, sometimes. Helps recharge, you know?"

"I do, yes."

"And the company was good."

He smiled.

"Oh, yeah?"

Romanoff nodded.

"Until he fell _asleep_."

Stephen laughed, genuinely enjoying her willingness to not only put him in his place, but to tease him.

"Cute."

She smirked, and held Peter's door open for him when they reached the boy's quarters.

"Are you going back to the sanctum tonight?"

"I don't think so. I have to admit I'm curious about the sleepwalking – and I've never actually _witnessed_ it, so I think I'm going to stick around, just in case."

He waited for her to pull the blankets back on the boy's bed and put him in it, then removed his shoes before pulling the covers up over him. He reached for the cloak before it could drape itself over Peter.

"I need you to stay with me, please," he told it.

Natasha watched, almost able to read the relic's thoughts as it debated whether to do as _it_ wanted and cuddle Peter all night, or do what Stephen asked and leave the boy alone, since they both assumed the cloak's presence would keep him from sleepwalking. Finally it floated back to the doctor's side and they left Peter's room, closing the door behind them.

"Does it ever actually _defy_ you?" Natasha asked, curiously, sitting down on Peter's couch.

"It has a mind of its own," Strange told her as he sat down beside her. "If I'm doing something and it doesn't think it's the best idea, it will let me know."

"How?"

"It'll drag me away, or slap me. Whatever it thinks it needs to do to get its point across."

"That's amazing…"

She reached her hand out to the cloak, which had draped itself over the back of the sofa when they'd sat down, and rubbed the fabric. It responded with a simple caress to her cheek,

"You've never been on the receiving end of it," he pointed out. "It likes you."

Natasha smiled and ran her fingers along his chin for a moment.

"I think I'm going to call it a night. It'll be interesting to see if the massage relaxed him or if he ends up crawling into my bed tonight."

He caught her hand and held it.

"And if _I_ ended up crawling into your bed tonight…?"

She smirked, leaned forward and kissed him.

"I'll remind you not to wake up Peter."

He was still smiling when she closed the door behind her.


	173. Chapter 174

_A/N: Completely unrelated to this chapter, but as I'm writing it, I'm watching Signs (because Peter and Tony watched it and it made me want to see it again) and still can't manage to get through it without freaking myself out, even though I know the aliens are coming._

OOOOOOOO

Strange didn't use the quarters that Tony had given him. It would have been tricky to watch for Peter to sleepwalk if he wasn't actually someplace where he could watch him, after all. Not impossible, of course. He _was_ a master of the mystic arts, and could have figured out a way, but he didn't mind sacking out on Peter's sofa, especially since the reclining section was fairly comfortable.

He had the lights on very low and looked through the homework that Peter had already completed, mostly out of curiosity, and then picked up one of the books that he was supposed to read for his English class. It was one that Strange had read in school as well, but so long ago that he flipped through it absently, and then ended up reading it until he was tired. Which didn't take long since the massage he'd had had made him sleepy as well.

Then he asked the cloak to wake him if Peter came out of his room and went to sleep, covered with a couple of blankets, even though the room was fairly warm.

OOOOOOOO

Almost frantic tapping on his cheek woke him nearly the same time that the odd rustling of paper close at hand did. He opened his eyes and looked around, confused for just a moment. The cloak stopped hitting him, and wrapped around his neck, similar to the way it generally cuddled with Peter, and his gaze went the same direction it appeared to be focused on. The source of the rustling paper.

Sitting on the couch – almost close enough to actually be touching him – Peter had picked up one of the papers from his stack of unfinished homework. He didn't look over at Strange – he didn't even seem to notice that he was there beside him. He just picked up a pen and started working on the worksheet. The fact that it was barely light enough in the room for Strange to see more than his basic outline didn't seem to bother the boy, but the doctor knew that he had incredible night vision, so that wasn't much of a surprise.

Strange looked at his watch, noted that it was almost three am, and then grabbed the cloak when it started to unwind from his neck and lean towards cuddling with Peter.

"Don't wake him up," he murmured to it, softly. There was no doubt that the boy wasn't fully aware of what he was doing. Despite the fact that Strange had never _seen_ a sleepwalker before, he knew what to look for from all the research he'd done on the subject, and Peter was showing the classic signs. "He might hurt himself if he panics."

Especially someone with Peter's capabilities.

The cloak didn't resist Strange's grasp. Instead it stayed on his neck and shoulders, watching with the doctor for almost twenty minutes while Peter did a couple of pages of homework silently. Then, almost before he realized it was happening, the boy got up and left his quarters, closing the door behind him.

OOOOOOOO

Natasha's alarm clock read just before 3:30 when she heard her door open, pulling her from a very light sleep. She sat up in her bed, using the light coming through her window from the field spotlight to see by, and pulled her blankets back when Peter silently entered her room and walked over to her bed. He didn't say anything when he crawled into her bed and under the blankets with her, but he didn't look upset, either. He just put his arms around her and leaned into her, obviously needing to be held.

Which she was willing to do. She tucked his head under her chin and pulled the blankets up around them both. She was getting ready to pull him into a more comfortable position on the bed – she couldn't sleep sitting up, after all – when another motion at her door drew her attention and she saw Stephen and the cloak entering the doorway.

"Is he okay?" she asked in a whisper.

"Yes, I think so," Strange replied, just as softly.

"Is he _awake_?"

"Not even close."

The cloak went over to the bed and tried to wrap itself around Peter but had to settle for Natasha for the most part, and the doctor walked over as well and sat on the edge of the bed to keep from looming over her.

"What happened?"

"He just got up and started working on his homework for a while – sitting right next to me and not even noticing my presence. Then he left his rooms and I followed him here."

"Is it the Mind stone?"

"I _doubt_ it," Strange answered, still keeping his voice down. "But I'm going to go check his homework. It might give us an idea of whether it's the stone or just his anxiety about having it looming over him that is keeping him up at night. Metaphorically, that is."

"Poor baby."

The doctor couldn't disagree – although he might have phrased it differently, of course.

"I suppose we can take massages off the list of remedies for these episodes."

"It was a good idea, though."

He nodded, reaching out and brushing a hand affectionately against the back of Peter's head.

"You're all right with him?"

"Of course. If the pattern stays true, he'll sleep himself out, now. If he has another episode, he'll wake me up getting out of bed, and I'll make sure he doesn't hurt himself."

"Call me if you need to," Strange told her. "I'm going to be in his rooms."

"I will."

Strange left and Natasha pulled the boy into a better position for sleeping, careful not to jar him and wake him up. Then she closed her eyes and slowly allowed herself to go back to sleep.

OOOOOOOO

Returning to Peter's room, Stephen turned on the lights since there was no concern about them keeping anyone awake. He crossed over to the sofa and sat down, picking up one of the papers that he'd watched Peter filling out. The boy's handwriting was fairly neat, but the first answer was wrong, and the second one was incomplete.

Obviously the Mind stone wasn't giving him the answers, and probably had nothing to do with getting Peter out of bed and working on homework. If it had been, there was no doubt that it would have been able to supply correct responses – especially since Tony had told him it was connected to the net through Vision, and anyone could google the name of the first ambassador to the Netherlands.

Strange had his own ideas about what was bothering Peter, now. Obviously the fact that he was being overrun by homework – and probably the concern that _May_ would be concerned about it – were right up there on his list. He could also be worried about his aunt showing up tomorrow and being worried about how he looked, or if he was getting better. If Strange was right, the boy was probably a tangle of anxiety, and no one his age should be so burdened. It was no wonder his subconscious mind kept sending him into Natasha's arms for a little comfort.

If it wasn't for the fact that it would be awkward, Strange would have volunteered to hold him for a while, too.

He sighed and decided that there really wasn't much that he could do about any of it right now – if there was anything that they could do at all. He was tired, and he knew he'd want to be as fresh as possible for the next day. Somewhat amused by the idea that turnabout was fair play, he decided to sleep the rest of the night out in the boy's bed. It was only fair, after all.

At least he wasn't going to be eating in it and getting crumbs in his sheets.


	174. Chapter 175

"Do we wake him up?

"No. if he's tired, we should let him get some sleep."

Strange rolled over, opening his eyes and looking up at the source of the voices and saw Peter and Natasha both looking down on him, watching him. The cloak was hanging on Peter's shoulder, and _it_ seemed to be watching him, too.

"I'm awake," he told them. Although he wasn't all _that_ awake, really.

Natasha looked at Peter.

"Go ahead and get changed. I'll stay here until you're ready."

The boy nodded and Strange watched him go over to his dresser and pull out clean clothes and then leave, presumably heading for the bathroom. Natasha sat down on the bed and leaned over and brushed her fingers along his chin by way of greeting. He didn't mind, he liked the fact that she wasn't afraid to touch him when she wanted to.

"I didn't mean to wake you," she apologized.

"It's fine." He stretched, and looked at his watch. It was almost 8:00. "How's he doing?"

She smiled and shook her head.

"He doesn't believe that he was doing his homework in his sleep."

"He _had_ to be asleep," Stephen told her, sitting up and rubbing his face, tiredly. "I can't imagine he'd knowingly tell his history teacher that _Sponge Bob_ was the first ambassador to the Netherlands."

"He _didn't_."

"Oh, he _did_. I'll show you the paper."

Romanoff shook her head.

"So it isn't the Mind stone, then." She turned serious. "It's the stress about the homework – and probably what it's doing to May. Maybe even triggered by the fact that she's coming today and will see he's behind, and still not well enough to go home?"

"I think it's a good guess, Natasha. He's probably also worried about how you and Tony are handling things, too. He's been sick a long time, and he can see the effect it's having on the people around him."

"What do you mean?"

"You all look _tired_ , for one thing. And you all look _worried_ , even when you're trying to hide it. He's a perceptive kid – probably made even more perceptive by those spider senses that Ned calls them. I'll bet he's picking up on all of that and it's making things worse."

"You can include _yourself_ in that, too, you know…"

"Yes. I know."

He liked Peter, and was worried about him, too. And it _would_ show, even though he was particularly good at hiding his feelings when he tried.

"So how do we fix it?"

"Best guess is that we start with May and work our way down, I suppose. I don't know for certain. But _May_ is the one he worries about the most. We'll talk to Tony and then see if he thinks we should bring it up with her."

She nodded.

"Are you going back to sleep?"

"No. I think I'll get up. I want to talk to Tony."

"He's in the lounge waiting to have breakfast with us."

"Then I will get dressed and come with you."

"Bring the papers Peter worked on, Tony will want to see them."

OOOOOOOO

Tony _was_ in the lounge. He was sitting with Pepper, discussing their upcoming day and waiting for the others to join them before eating. They were also trying to figure out the best way to stop Peter from stressing about all the people around him. Unfortunately neither of them could think of anything.

They looked up when Peter, Strange and Natasha walked into the lounge and waved them over, but Tony sent Peter to the bar, asking if he would let the kitchen people know that they were ready to eat. He nodded, more than willing to do that, and left the table, walking over to talk to the barkeeper – who he was getting to know pretty well.

When he was out of earshot, Tony brought the subject up with them, only to find that Strange and Natasha had been pretty much having the same discussion. The doctor told them about Peter's sleepwalking the night before and the homework he'd worked on.

"We're _sure_ it's not the Mind stone?"

"Absolutely."

"Let me think about it," Tony said, finally, as Peter headed their way. "May could be the one to ask. She knows how much he stresses about things – even if she doesn't always know _why_."

"We can go to meet her when she gets here," Strange said. "If we find something to occupy Peter, that will give us a chance to talk to her, first."

"I have just the thing," Natasha told them. "Guaranteed to give you at least an hour or two, if you need it."

"Perfect." Tony looked up at Peter when he came over and sat down, holding up one of his papers and giving him a slight smile. "I thought I told you to wait until _morning_ to work on this?"

Peter shook his head.

"I don't remember any of it."

Stark's smile grew.

" _Sponge Bob_? Really?"

Now Peter had to smile, too, despite the fact that that he was trying to defend himself. The ridiculousness of the situation was clear, even to him.

"It wasn't me."

Natasha smiled as well. She'd looked through some of the answers he'd written and the Sponge Bob one wasn't even the worst.

"I, particularly, was impressed to hear that they changed the capitol of the Netherlands to _Gotham_."

Peter snorted and buried his face in his palms.

"After breakfast why don't you work on your homework for a while?" Tony told him, pleased that the gentle teasing had had the desired effect and the boy didn't seem to know that they were worried about the sleepwalking. He looked at Natasha. "When do you need him?"

"How about 11:00?"

Stark nodded.

"At 11:00, report to Natasha for a special assignment."

"What are we doing?" Peter asked, curiously.

" _Secret stuff_ ," she told him with a smile. "Wear shorts, though, and don't bring the cloak, because it will _not_ enjoy itself."

Which told him that they were going to be getting messy in some way. He debated trying to wheedle the information out of her, figuring that it probably _wasn't_ something super-secret; she was just enjoying knowing and not letting him know, but decided that it really didn't matter what they were doing. He just liked spending time with her.

"Where will you be?"

"Meet us at the jet."

Now he really was interested, but he could tell she wasn't going to tell him. Luckily for her – or maybe for him – their breakfast arrived and the topic of conversation was changed to more mundane topics that were focused on what they had planned for while May was visiting.

When he was done eating, Peter excused himself to go do homework and left, with the cloak of levitation humming in his head and keeping him company. The others weren't in any hurry to get going. It was the weekend, after all, and Natasha's schedule was free for a change, and Pepper and Tony had made sure theirs were, as well. Strange planned on heading back to the Sanctum to check in on things sometime that afternoon, but there wasn't anything pressing there that needed his attention, and if something came up Wong would let him know.

They discussed how to keep Peter from stressing, and how to make him aware that they were all fine, even if they did worry about him a little, but no one had a good answer – aside from a giant group hug, which probably wouldn't work that well, but might be entertaining.


	175. Chapter 176

It was sunny, warm and bright when Happy pulled the car to a stop next to where Strange and Stark were standing, waiting to greet May. It was just the two of them, since Stephen had told the cloak where he was going and who they were meeting with and the relic had apparently opted to stay in Peter's quarters rather than play simple piece of fabric when presented to Peter's aunt. Pepper was also absent, although she was planning on having lunch with them. She knew the two wanted a chance to speak with May, though, and she didn't have anything to add to the conversation.

Strange opened the door, and Tony offered her his hand to help her out of the car. In his other was a single yellow rose, which he handed to her with a flourish.

"Welcome back."

She smiled and gave him a hug, and then turned to Strange and hugged him as well.

"Thank you."

"How was the drive?"

Tony closed the door so Happy wouldn't have to get out of the car, and it left, heading for the side of the building. He'd already told May that he would take her things to her room so her hands were free as the three of them walked toward the door.

"It's gorgeous today. Where's Peter?"

"Special assignment with Agent Romanoff," Stark told her with a smile. "Which works out well, because we were hoping to have a chance to talk to you without him for a minute."

"About the sleepwalking?"

Strange nodded, holding the door for her.

"Yes."

"He's still doing it?"

"We think we know why, though."

They didn't discuss it as they walked to the lounge, which was empty. Strange went to the bar and got them all iced teas while Tony sat her at a table.

"Is it lack of sleep? Or stress?" she asked.

"Almost certainly stress," Stephen answered, handing her a glass and then sitting next to Stark so they could both be across from her. "He sleeps fairly well. It's a matter of keeping him in bed once he goes to sleep that is the issue."

"Is he stressing about his homework? Or _me_?"

Which proved that she knew her nephew well, and surprised both of them.

"I'm not sure if the order is correct," Stark told her. "But I think you've got it right on the nose. He's way behind on the homework – although he's _trying_ to catch up – and probably worried you'll be concerned that he isn't."

" _And_ worried that you'll be troubled by the fact that he's not gaining back the weight that he's lost and that he still isn't looking completely healthy," Strange added.

She shook her head.

"He's always been a pretty solemn kid. Even before he came to live with me, but obviously a lot more after. He's always tried to look out for me, even when I was trying to comfort him. Someone made the usual comment to him at the funeral that he was the man of the house, now, and that his job was to take care of me…"

"So he tries to."

"Yeah." She sighed. "So we need to get some of the stress off him, then, and kick this sleepwalking thing?"

"Yes."

"I'm afraid I brought more homework. Should I just leave it in the bag and take it back with me?"

Strange shook his head.

"We can't _shelter_ him from it. Besides, he'd probably wonder why there isn't more coming if you didn't bring it. I'd say a talk with him, and a reminder that he's been sick and no one expected him to keep up with things wouldn't hurt. Tony _tried_ , but I'm sure it would be more effective if it came from you."

"I can do that." She hesitated. "You guys look _tired_. You realize he'll be worrying about you, too, if he catches on that _you're_ worried about him, right?"

Stark smiled.

"We've figured that out, as well. We've planned plenty of down time this weekend for all of us. Nothing too strenuous. Barbeque tonight, simple quiet time tomorrow. No water therapy, either – although you might ask him how his swimming lessons are going and see if he will give you a demonstration of his technique. It's fairly _entertaining_."

Now it was May's turn to smile.

"I'll do that."

"And _please_ explain to me tab A and slot B…"

Now she laughed and rolled her eyes.

"Do I even want to know how _that_ subject came up?"

"What's this?" Strange asked, confused.

"You missed it, Stephen," Stark told him. "Apparently that is how May here explained the birds and the bees to Peter."

"He wasn't getting it," she said, still smiling. "I tried _birds_. I tried _bees_. If you think about it, birds and bees is ridiculous, since they don't have anything close to our anatomy – which _Peter_ was quick to point out to me as I was blushing more and more and completely floundering. Then I noticed the instructions to the bookcase we'd just put together and tried that. And it clicked."

"I would have loved to see that conversation," Strange said, smiling at the thought.

Stark stood up.

"Come on, let's go find him. They should be about done and ready for lunch, and he'll be glad to see you."

Besides, now they were all in a good mood and smiling, and that was exactly what they wanted Peter to see.

OOOOOOOOO

The Quinjet gleamed wetly in the early afternoon sun. Made even more so by the fact that Romanoff, Steve and Peter were all up on lifts, each with a hose with a sprayer attachment on the end, a bucket of soapy water and a long handled brush. They were methodically working their way from the front to the back, hosing it down, soaping it up and scrubbing the fuselage and then spraying it clean.

All three were soaked to the skin, and Peter had understood immediately why Natasha had told him to wear shorts, and that the cloak wouldn't enjoy the activity. It had taken him a bit to figure out how to spray the fuselage at the right angle to avoid having the spray ricochet back at him, and it didn't help that Natasha was constantly amusing herself by _accidentally_ spraying him and Steve with her own hose every chance she got. Most likely paying them back for the mud puddle episode. Which he supposed was only fair.

They were just finishing the ramp area of the jet when a motion below caught his attention, and he saw May, Stark and Strange all walking their way.

"What is he doing?" May asked, a little concerned to see him up on the lift, even though she saw that he had a safety line attached to the side of the lift.

"Washing his jet," Strange replied, tossing an amused look at Stark, who rolled his eyes.

"What?"

"Peter didn't tell you he won it from Tony playing chess?"

She smiled.

"No. He must have forgotten to mention it. It's _very_ shiny."

"Indeed it is."

Tony just shook his head, allowing them their fun at his expense.

They watched as the three cleaning the jet lowered their lifts and then walked over to greet them. May smiled at just how wet he was. She was so pleased to see him that she only briefly spared a moment to be fascinated by just how good Captain America looked in a wet t-shirt and shorts that clung to him in a very interesting manner before turning her attention back to her nephew.

Peter hugged her carefully, holding his wet body away from her to keep her dry, but pressing his cheek against hers.

"You got a haircut," she commented when he pulled back. "It looks good."

"You do, too," he told her, clearly happy to see her.

Stark gave them a couple of minutes to greet each other – and for May to say her hellos to Steve and Natasha – and then he stepped up and hooked his arm through May's.

"Why don't you guys all go change and then meet us in the lounge for lunch?"


	176. Chapter 177

Lunch was very low key. Pepper joined them and the conversation was light; mainly discussion with May about her work, while Pepper told her about the more interesting things happening at Stark Industries. Then Peter told May about the spa treatment that they'd had; the haircut, manicure and the massage, and she'd raised an eyebrow at that until Peter had mentioned his massage had consisted of waist up only.

Natasha had innocently asked Stark and Strange if _they'd_ been as shy and both men had admitted that they had no such qualms and had enjoyed the full treatment available. Which had raised eyebrows, as well – only not _May's_.

When they were finished they sat around the table for a while, just relaxing as Tony had told May they planned to.

"Dinner tonight is barbeque," Stark told Peter. Everyone else already knew. "We'll be out in the field like last time. Until then, you spend some time with your aunt, but let me know if you need anything."

May asked Peter if he would join her in her VIP rooms and he nodded, looking at the others to see if anyone needed anything from him, first. They all simply shooed him off, knowing that he'd want a chance to spend some time with May and told him they'd see him that evening.

"This is for you," his aunt told him when they reached her rooms. She handed him a fairly large plush teddy bear, wearing a blue bowtie. "Estelle sent it for you, to keep you company, she said."

He smiled and took it, but knew he'd probably take some kidding for it – and didn't mind at all. Estelle was a nice person. He figured she'd get an invite to May's surprise party.

"Tell her I said thank you."

"She's worried about you," May said, taking his hand and pulling him over to the sofa and sitting him down so that she could sit beside him and put an arm around him. "I told her that you're fine, and you're being well taken care of. Am I right?"

He nodded.

"Yeah." He leaned against her, putting his head on her shoulder. "They're all amazing to me."

"Good. It means I don't need to worry about you while you're here, then."

"No. You shouldn't worry at all."

"You're eating well?"

"Yes."

"Sleeping?"

"As much as I want."

"Tony told me you've had a sleepwalking episode, though," she said, brushing a hand against his cheek. "What has you so stressed?"

"Nothing. It was just a onetime thing."

"Peter…"

She knew he was lying, and she wouldn't let him. The rebuke in her voice was gentle, but definitely there. He sighed.

"I don't want everyone to worry about me, May. But they _are_. _You_ are. _Mr. Stark_ is. All of them, really."

"We love you. You always worry about people when you love them. _You_ know that. Are you worried about _us_ , then?"

"Yeah."

"You see what's happening, right? _You_ worry, and that makes us worry, which makes you worry more – and so on…"

"I don't know how _not_ to worry…"

she held him close.

"There's nothing wrong with caring enough to worry. But you can't get caught up in the cycle that you've gotten yourself locked into." She kissed his temple. "Why don't we make a deal. I will worry less about you, knowing that Tony and the others really _are_ taking good care of you. And in return, _you_ worry less about me, since you know I'm not stressing out about it."

"I'll try."

"Good. So will I."

They sat in silence for a while, enjoying the company they were keeping. Then Peter saw the bag on the chair where Happy had left it.

"More homework?"

"Yup. Your teachers told me to tell you that there's no hurry. They know you've been sick, and they don't expect it to get done immediately. Mr. Stuber _did_ mention that you should show your work, though."

"I'm way behind," he admitted to her.

"I bet. There's plenty of time, though. Really. Take an hour a day or so and you'll get through it. You know if you need help you can call me."

"Yeah."

He relaxed further, her seeming indifference to the fact that he was so behind was comforting and he closed his eyes, just enjoying being with her, and feeling a bit of the weight that seemed to be pressing down on him ease up a little. He was almost asleep when she spoke up again.

"What's this Tony was telling me about taking you camping with Stephen?"

He smiled, but didn't even open his eyes.

"I'm not sure. I didn't know anything about it until he mention it."

"Do you _want_ to go? I can tell him no and take the heat for you if you're not interested."

"I've never been. It might be fun."

"Then you can go –but not until you're better. And only if you stop _worrying_ all the time. You're going to get an ulcer."

"Okay."

He _did_ end up dozing off, then. An active morning washing the Quinjet and then a big meal and her company was all it took. May didn't mind. She was there to spend time with him, even if he slept the entire time.

OOOOOOOO

The barbeque wasn't quite as large as a Monday night one was. This was more in line with a company picnic type thing. There were fewer people, for one thing – although plenty of activities. When Peter finally woke up and he and May went to join the others, they found that things were in full swing.

There was horseshoes and flag football and volleyball, and just as dizzying an array of food choices and drinks – although there was a bit more alcohol to be had, since very few of the participants had to work the next day. Romanoff waved to them from a table she was sharing with Stark, Pepper and Stephen, and they went to join them. All of them but Strange were eating. He was simply nursing a beer, with the cloak of levitation draped over his shoulder – acting like nothing more than a simple piece of quality fabric, although Peter was sure that before they had arrived it was a bit more animated.

He sat down beside the doctor and brushed his hand along the cloth, feeling a purely mental croon of cheer at the greeting. It _looked_ like he was patting Strange on the shoulder, and he smiled at him when he sat down, well aware of what he was doing. May noticed that he wasn't eating and frowned.

"Not hungry, Stephen?"

"He doesn't like barbeques," Natasha told her with a grin.

"Really? But you like _camping_?"

Tony was suddenly seized by a fit of coughing, and Pepper slapped his back a few times. Strange rolled his eyes.

"It's _complicated_ ," he told her, not as amused as Stark but still forced to smile at the situation.

Before May could make a comment, a couple of guys trotted up to the table, wearing Velcro belts with flags hanging off of them. Pete recognized them as being on his team during the muddy flag football game.

"Come on, Peter," one said. "We need a running back."

He grinned and took off with them, leaving May to shake her head.

"I didn't even know he knew how to play," she said.

"He's still learning," Stark told her. "They'll be careful with him, though."

"They'd _better_ ," Natasha said, watching as the football players found a set of flags for the boy.

"We had a chance to talk," May said, since her nephew wasn't there just then. "And we made a deal. He will stress _less_ , and I will try not to worry so much about him."

She watched as a man who probably weighed three times what Peter did handed him the football and 12 men started chasing him.

"Starting _tomorrow_ , right?" Strange asked, knowingly.

"Right."


	177. Chapter 178

"Does it hurt?"

"It's not bad."

"Are you being truthful? Or trying to keep me from worrying?"

Peter shook his head, almost dislodging the icepack Strange was pressing against his forehead.

"I'm telling the truth. It probably won't even leave a mark."

"It already _has_ ," Natasha said, looking over Strange's shoulder.

"It doesn't hurt."

"It's not too bad," Stephen assured May. "Everyone gets dropped on their head once in a while. I can't imagine it hasn't happened to him before."

"Not by his own _teammates_ , though," Natasha pointed out, turning to scowl at the football player who had carried Peter over to the chair he was now sitting on. There were 23 guys all looming around in a semicircle, waiting to make sure the boy was going to be okay.

"It was an accident," Peter told her – _again_. "We just got excited. I've never scored a touchdown before."

His cheer was contagious, and she was forced to smile – so were May and Strange.

"You're supposed to spike the _ball_ ," the doctor told him, the hand that wasn't holding the icepack pushing Peter's hair back, affectionately. "Not your teammate."

"I'll work on that."

"You do that."

"How's he doing?" Tony asked, walking up and peering into Peter's eyes, looking for any sign of dizziness or concussion.

"He's fine," May said, watching Peter with a smile. She hadn't _seen_ the touchdown he'd scored, only the response from his team when the cheer had gone up. And then the two players who had picked him up to celebrate with him had lost their grip on him and dropped him almost immediately.

"How many fingers am I holding up?"

Peter rolled his eyes.

"Three."

"He's fine, guys," Natasha told the football players. "But I think he's done for the day."

He shrugged his acceptance of that, but still couldn't lose the grin. He'd scored. Against guys that were a lot bigger than he was. He wished he had it on video so he could send it to Ned. The football players dispersed, going back to their game, and Pepper came and sat down at the table with them.

"Good game, though."

He smiled.

"Thanks."

"Nothing active the rest of the night," Strange told him.

"I have a couple of books I need to read," Peter said. He looked over at May. "Not because I'm _stressed_ over getting them read, but because I _like_ to read and they're there and need to be read."

She smiled.

"I'm not going to complain about that."

"Don't hole yourself up in your room, though," Stark said. "A nice evening like this isn't to be wasted."

"I can read out here," Peter agreed. He waited for Strange to move the icepack and stood up. "Can I borrow your cloak?" he asked. "Now that I'm not running around it's a little chilly."

"Sure."

The doctor pulled the cloak of levitation off his shoulder and Peter took it and wrapped it around his shoulders. He felt a cheerful humming in his mind as he did, and smiled. "I'll be right back."

As he walked away, May thought he must have walked into a downdraft or something because if she didn't know better she would have sworn the cloth was moving, brushing against Peter's hair.

"He sure _likes_ that thing," she said, looking at Strange. "Would you sell it to me?"

The doctor smiled, and seated himself back in the chair he'd abandoned. He shook his head as he reclaimed his beer.

"I'm afraid not. It's something of an heirloom and I'm more or less obligated to watch over it."

OOOOOOOO

Peter was slightly distracted as he made his way to his quarters. The cloak had been very accommodating – acting like a normal piece of fabric _wasn't_ fun – but it wanted some cuddle time, now, and it was all over him with its caressing and crooning. He didn't mind; he was just grateful that it hadn't come rushing out onto the field to make sure he was okay when he'd been dropped on his head.

He hesitated when deciding which book to read first, but finally picked up _Lord of the Flies_. He'd seen the movie and it sounded a bit more adventurous than _Animal Farm_. And more interesting, if the book was anything like the movie.

" _Peter, stop at the lounge and pick us up a Pinochle deck, will you?"_

Mr. Stark's voice came through his watch just as he was debating whether he wanted to carry a blanket out – just in case it got chilly.

"Yeah."

He grabbed the blanket, grabbed the book and headed for the lounge with the cloak still loving up his head and messing up his new haircut. By now he knew where all the entertainment items were kept, and he picked up a deck of cards and paper and a pen for them to keep score. It was a nice evening, so he didn't think they would need any kind of paperweights to hold the tablet down.

He delivered the cards and paper to the table – May and Pepper were going to team up against Strange and Stark, it looked like – and then he found one of the loungers a little off to the side to sit in. it was close enough he could hear the game, but far enough away that they wouldn't be able to constantly reach over and check the bump on his head.

He was just settling in when a plate loaded with hotdogs, chips and celery sticks with peanut butter was placed on the table beside his chair and Natasha settled herself in the lounger beside his.

"You didn't eat," she reminded him.

"I know." He smiled. "Because I was too busy playing football and scoring a _touchdown_."

That made _her_ smile, too.

"I think I heard something about that…"

And would probably hear about it a few more times in the future, she was sure. He looked so pleased with himself that she knew he didn't even feel the newest bruise that had been added to his collection.

"They won't let you play?"

"They _would_ – and we could play five-handed – but I'm tired, so I'm going to lay here and do nothing more than enjoy your company and see if I can take a nap. It's a good evening for it."

"I'm going to be _reading_ ," he pointed out, holding up the book. "The company isn't going to be very interesting."

"You don't need to keep me entertained to be good company," Natasha told him, reaching out and touching his cheek. "Sometimes it's just spending time with someone. Even if that person isn't doing anything more than being near you, reading a book."

He nodded, and watched as she made herself comfortable on the lounger and closed her eyes. It had a built in pillow so that wasn't a problem. He waited until she was still, and then picked up the blanket that he'd brought out for himself and draped it over her, leaning over to tuck it around her.

Romanoff opened her eyes and smiled, but didn't move. Now she was as comfortable as she could be.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome."

He brushed his fingers along her cheek like so many people did with him, and then he went back to his book, with the cloak wrapped around his shoulders to keep him warm, but now once more playing its role of mere blanket.

He ate his dinner while he read, the sound of the Pinochle game in the background. He didn't need to look over to know that Pepper and May were winning; he could hear a lot more masculine grumbling than anything else – and the occasional smug comment in a much higher voice register. As the sun set and then the lights on the field took over, he had to admit it had been a good day. No one seemed to be in any hurry to end the barbeque activities, although the football game was done and there seemed to be a lot more quiet things going on, because the sounds were much more muted, now.

Natasha had fallen asleep, and the cloak was crooning a lullaby once more. It didn't care what happened to Piggy and Ralph and the others; it decided that _he_ should be sleeping, too, and was doing whatever it needed to do to make that happen – short of dropping him on his head. The book finally fell from his hand as he did fall asleep, the lullaby in his mind and the gentle murmur of the voices of those around him telling him that tomorrow was time enough to finish the story.

OOOOOOOOO

"You guys need help?"

Tony kissed Pepper's cheek and shook his head, looking at the two sleeping forms in the chairs.

"No. We've done this before," he reminded her. "You two go on. We'll settle them and meet you in the lounge."

It was late, but none of them had to get up early the next day, so they might as well have a final nightcap before bed.

May and Pepper nodded and left, and Strange came over to stand by Stark.

"They look comfortable."

"Yeah. But they won't _be_ if we keep them out here. Dibs on _Romanoff_."

Strange frowned.

"What?"

"I said, dibs on Romanoff. You have to carry _Peter_."

"You can't call _dibs_ on someone."

"Clearly I _can_ , since I just did. You got to carry her last time, remember?"

Strange scowled.

"Do you want to find yourself wearing a bright yellow Bigfoot shirt in the middle of your next board meeting?"

"Not especially."

"Then I suggest you relinquish your _dibs_."

"You wouldn't."

"Try me?"

Stark snorted.

"Stephen Strange… I do believe you have a _crush_ on my super spy…"

"I swear, Tony, I will have you in Bermuda shorts and flip flops, the Bigfoot shirt and the ugliest hat you've-"

"Fine, you can carry Romanoff."

He leaned over and carefully picked Peter up, gathering the boy into his arms easily. The cloak, no longer hampered by May's presence, shifted enough that it wasn't going to be pinned between Stark and Peter, and caressed Tony's cheek for a moment before it draped itself over his shoulder. Peter mumbled something in his sleep and brought his hand up to run his fingers along Stark's chin, briefly, and then was quiet.

Tony waited for Strange to pick up Natasha, blanket and all, and then the two walked back to the building, nodding a thank you when one of the cooks held the door open for them.

"You know, we're going to have to talk if you have any interest in Natasha," Stark told Stephen as they walked. "I mean, there's _curfew_ involved, and we probably need to discuss what behavior is appropriate and what my expectations are as far as-"

" _Tony_ …"

There was a definite warning in Strange's tone, but far more amusement.

"I'm just _saying_. Someone's gotta look out for her, and make sure that the boys aren't trying to take advantage of her sweet and innocent nature."

Strange rolled his eyes. Obviously _he'd_ never had Romanoff drug him before.

When they reached Peter's door, the cloak disengaged enough that it could jimmy the door handle for Stark, and then it flew over and did the same for Natasha's door, pushing them open.

"I'll see you in the lounge," Tony told him as he carried Peter into the room. "Don't be long. Maybe they'll give us a rematch."

Strange put Natasha into her bed, pulled her shoes off and then covered her with her own blankets, neatly folding the one that she'd been using and setting it at the foot of her bed. Romanoff sighed, sleepily, rolled over a little and opened her eyes.

"Who won?" she asked, reaching out and catching his hand.

"They did." He raised her hand to his chin, brushing it against him. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"It's okay. Where's Peter?"

"Tony's putting him to bed, now. He's fine."

She nodded, and closed her eyes, but didn't let go of his hand.

"Are you going back to the sanctum tonight?"

"Probably. I'll be back in the morning. Tony was thinking brunch at that place we went to last time. Interested?'

"Mmm-hmm… sounds good."

He leaned over and kissed her, realizing that she was too asleep to have much of a conversation, and he didn't want her to wake up, anyway. Natasha smiled, but didn't open her eyes, and she brought his hand to her lips and kissed his knuckle before letting it go.

"I'll see you in the morning, okay?"

"Another kiss, first."

Strange obliged her, then pulled her blankets up once more, turned off her lights with a thought and left.


	178. Chapter 179

Strange appeared at the compound the next morning fairly late. His shiny Avenger watch told him it was after 9:00, so he expected everyone would be up and around. As he usually did, he arrived in the corridor outside Peter's room, but the cloak didn't want to pretend to be a blanket all day and had not joined him, so without it to do its bloodhound trick, he was just assuming that the boy was still in his room where Tony had left him the night before. For all he knew, they could all be in the lounge by now – although he knew they were planning on going out to eat, so they probably _weren't_ having breakfast.

He let himself in. The living room was quiet and empty so he went to the bedroom and found that Peter was still in his bed. Sound asleep with one arm wrapped around a fairly large teddy bear that was clutched against his stomach.

Somewhat surprised to find him still in bed, Strange walked over and quietly pulled the blankets up over him, brushing a gentle hand against his forehead to check for fever. He was cool and dry, certainly not showing any indication of fever or distress. Strange took a minute to watch the boy sleep, just making sure he didn't see any signs of discomfort or bad dreams, but Peter seemed fine. He decided to go to the lounge to see if anyone was awake.

When he walked into the lounge, he found Stark, Pepper, May and Natasha all sitting at the corner table playing cards. They greeted him when he walked over, and Tony pushed a chair out for him, obviously an invitation to join them.

"Good morning."

He saw they were playing hearts, but declined their invitation to join them, deciding just to watch.

"Did you come from Peter's room?" Natasha asked.

"Yes."

"Still sleeping?"

"Yes. Any sleepwalking last night?"

"Not as far as we know."

"Is he still loving up the bear?" Stark asked, proving that _he'd_ been by to check on the boy that morning as well.

"Yes. Where did he get it?"

"A friend of mine sent it with me to give to him," May replied, looking up from her hand. "She figured he'd take it from her a lot better than if I gave it to him, but I thought it might help."

"Something did."

"Coffee, Stephen?" Pepper asked.

"Yes, but I'll get it. Thank you." He went over to the bar where the coffee pot was and poured a cup. "What do you have planned for today, Tony?"

"Brunch. Other than that, just quiet time for him – and _us_. Give us all a chance to recharge."

"Good plan."

OOOOOOOOOO

"Peter?"

A hand on his cheek and the voice of Doctor Strange woke him from another dream about planets. Not planets blowing up, just planets hanging out in space, floating lazily by. He was finding that it was about as peaceful a dream as he could have, and he opened his eyes almost regretfully. Strange was sitting on the edge of the bed, watching him.

"Good morning."

Peter looked around, and the doctor realized he was probably making sure that he was in _his_ room and not somewhere else. Which was completely understandable.

"Hey..."

"How'd you sleep?"

"Good. I think."

"It looks that way," Strange agreed. "Time to get up, though. The others are meeting us in the garage."

"Where are we going?"

"Brunch."

"Where's your cloak?"

"It didn't seem to want to come."

"Because it doesn't like to pretend to be normal?"

"Most likely." Strange smiled. "It's amusing to watch it play dead, though."

Peter echoed the smile, but shrugged.

" _You_ don't have to listen to it grumble, though."

"Does it?"

"When it gets sat on, or pressed in between people, things like that. Sometimes it's downright grumpy, but sometimes it seems to be amused by us."

Strange shook his head.

"That's amazing."

"Sometimes. Sometimes it's a _distraction_ , though. If _you_ had to listen to it while trying to concentrate on spells it might make you misfire or something."

"Good point."

Peter yawned and sat up, but wasn't in any great hurry as he changed and combed his hair. He was still really sleepy. The walk to the garage took a little longer than it might have, and Strange kept a hand on his shoulder just to make sure he didn't lose his balance or something. The others were waiting by the limousine when they arrived.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," May told him, fondly, touching his cheek as he walked up to the car. She smiled, because he _looked_ sleepy, and she knew from experience that he wasn't going to stay awake unless someone made him.

"Hey."

He hugged May, leaning on her a little more than he might have, and then followed Stark into the car, sitting beside him with Pepper on the other side. May, Natasha and Strange were across from them. He managed to say hello to everyone, but he almost immediately closed his eyes and leaned against Tony's shoulder, already going back to sleep. Stark frowned, but Strange and May both looked far more amused than concerned when he looked at them.

"I just woke him up," Stephen explained. "He'll probably sleep all the way to the restaurant."

Which was fine. As long as he woke up to eat.

It was a relief that neither seemed concerned. Tony shifted Peter into a more comfortable position and just let the boy sleep. He didn't mind being a pillow.

OOOOOOOO

Peter _did_ wake up a bit more when they reached the restaurant. Enough that he managed to enjoy the conversation with those around him – particularly with May.

"They tell me you're getting pretty good at swimming," she told him once they'd filled their plates with the amazing selection the buffet had to offer and had seated themselves back at the table with the others. Now he was sandwiched between Natasha and May, which was fine with him. "Are you willing to give me a demonstration when we get back?"

"Clint isn't there," Peter told her.

That didn't mean anything to May, of course, and she frowned, looking at Stark for guidance.

"He's the one doing the teaching," Tony explained. "I'll go in the water with you, if you want, Peter," he offered.

"Okay." He was a bit dubious about demonstrating his less than perfected technique, but he thought that she would be pleased that he could do it, even if it wasn't nearly as smooth as the people who did their lap swims every day.

"We could set up the water volleyball net," Natasha said. "It's in the _shallows_ , so there's no swimming involved, and it would be fun."

"I didn't bring a suit," May told her, wishing that she had.

"We can find you one."

May looked at Peter, who shrugged and smiled.

"I've never played, but I'll already be wet, so I'm okay with that."

Of course, he'd do anything that Natasha wanted. Add in that _May_ looked like she wanted to play, too, and he would have tried to swim the Pacific Ocean.

"Stephen?"

Strange met Natasha's gaze, recognizing the challenge in her expression immediately. He gave a purely mental sigh, well aware that he had the same problem Peter did, and for _almost_ the exact same reason. Only Peter didn't see it as a _problem_ – and he supposed that he didn't, either. She had him well and truly wrapped around her little finger.

"I didn't bring trunks."

Another one of those pitiable last ditch efforts to avoid something that he really didn't want to do, but knew he was going to end up doing – just because he liked making her happy.

"We can find you some," Tony assured him, with a smirk.

Yay.


	179. Chapter 180

"Well… that's some _interesting_ technique…"

Strange nodded, watching as Peter propelled himself away from them toward the other side of the pool, his arms and legs flailing, water splashing everywhere. Treading water while holding a lifeguard floatie, Tony Stark was intent on the boy, keeping his position carefully between Peter and the deepest part of the pool. Standing beside Strange, _May_ was watching him almost as intently as Tony.

"It keeps him afloat, though, and moves him forward."

"What is he doing with his face?" May asked, watching as Peter would occasionally drop his face into the water for a moment and bring it up with an audible gasp.

" _Breathing_."

She chuckled, but forced the smile down when Peter reached the other side and headed their way. She didn't want him to think she was laughing at him – even though she _was_.

"He'll need to work on that."

"We agree. But he's over his fear of the water, so that's definitely a plus."

She couldn't agree more.

"Clint will get him figured out," Natasha assured them both. She was standing closer to the edge of the pool than they were, hovering over the demonstration as she promised she would any time Peter was in the water. "It's just a matter of explaining it and demonstrating."

They were all dressed for the water. May and Natasha in almost matching suits of green and Strange in a pair of trunks that were similar to the ones Peter had on. He'd rolled his eyes when he'd walked out of the locker room and Natasha had made a purely silent show of looking him up and down with approval. He was well aware that his body style was far more in line with Peter's – lanky and lean – rather than burly and obviously powerful like Steve or even Clint.

"I'm glad he's learning," May replied. "It's one less thing to worry about."

Natasha smiled at that.

"We don't let him in the water unless there's two of us with him. And he knows it."

Peter reached the edge closest to them before May could respond, and he stopped, looking up at them – mostly May – with a proud smile.

"That was amazing," May told him. "Your technique is a bit unique, but you did great."

"Clint taught me the swimming. Doctor Strange showed me how to breathe."

Natasha grinned at the bland expression on Strange's face at that pronouncement.

"Do it again, just so I can see you really have it down."

He nodded and pushed himself off, passing Stark, who moved to match his pace once more.

"I did _not_ teach him _that_ ," Stephen assured her once the boy was out of earshot.

Romanoff chuckled, and looked toward the shallow end of the pool, where Steve and Bruce were setting up the water volleyball net under the completely unnecessary supervision of Pepper. All three of them were dressed for the water as well, and Pepper was blowing up a couple of beach balls, which was what they'd play with instead of actual volleyballs.

The net cut the shallow end in half, anchored on the edge of the pool on the shallowest side and then on a weighted float on the part that extended into the water. Steve had walked it out to make sure they weren't going to be playing in any water that was deeper than Peter's chest, but they figured that they'd make sure he was only on the side closest to the shallowest part. He could swim – somewhat – but none of them were willing to take a chance with him.

"Looks like they're about ready," she told them. "Clint's on his way in, so he might join us, but we can play four on three. Steve's a natural and could probably play six on one if he wanted."

"Peter!" Strange yelled to get the boy's attention, although he waited until he was at the other edge of the pool. The boy stopped his swimming and turned to look at him. "Swim to the shallow area."

He waved his understanding, and with Stark trailing him, the boy swam to where Steve was. As they walked over to join the others, they saw Steve talking to Peter, then saw him demonstrate how to turn his head to breathe and keep his head in the water.

"Maybe he'll save Clint the trouble," Natasha said, watching as Peter stuck his face in the water while standing in the shallow, and then brought it right back up without turning to take a proper breath. "Or maybe _not_."

OOOOOOOO

Strange had to admit that the water volleyball game had been a good idea. Easy exercise and not so competitive that anyone cared who won. It was relaxing and fun for those involved and a good way to spend the remaining part of the afternoon before May had to leave.

Clint did end up arriving in time to join them for the last hour or so and all of them were wrinkly and smiling by the time they called the game and got out of the pool. They agreed to meet in the lounge once everyone was changed for a final drink before Happy collected May to take her home.

Peter and Tony walked her out when it was time to go, and Natasha nudged the doctor as they left.

"Admit it, you had _fun_."

He nodded.

"Yes."

"You spend too much time in your library," she told him. "We'll have to help keep you active."

"At least I'm not _bleeding_ this time," he pointed out.

"It can get competitive when you get some of the guys in the water," Steve told him, finishing his iced tea.

"Luckily, they're all afraid of Nat," Barton added. "She keeps them in line."

Strange smiled at that but before he could reply Natasha's expression changed and she tapped the ear bud that she had put back on once she'd gotten out of the pool. An instant later Steve tapped his, as well. Both stood up, as did Barton.

"Be right back," Romanoff told him.

"Is everything all right?"

"I'm not sure."

She brushed her hand along his shoulder as she walked by him, and he watched as the three left, but figured it was an _Avenger_ thing, and not a _Master of the Mystic Arts_ thing. He was almost finished with his tea when Tony and Peter returned. Obviously _Tony_ knew that something was going on, because his expression was serious. Peter might not know the details, but he was perceptive enough to pick up that something was happening.

"What's going on, Tony?" Strange asked, curiously.

"There's a slight situation developing in Belarus. A problem with a contact."

"Anything I can do?"

"No, but I appreciate the offer. It's Romanoff's contact. She's going to let me know what she needs to do once she knows more about the situation."

"Is this common?"

Stark nodded.

"It's one of the reasons we have the Quinjet; they're constantly on the go looking out for these contacts we make." He looked over at Peter, who was obviously worried, and hit his side with the back of his hand. "Don't look like that. It happens all the time."

The boy nodded.

"Did May have a good time?" Strange asked, changing the subject to one of Peter's favorites.

He smiled, and nodded.

"She said she did. She enjoyed playing water volleyball she said. Thanks for playing, too."

He was well aware Strange hadn't really wanted to.

"You're welcome."

"Did you finish your book?" Tony asked.

"No. I know how it _ends_ , though. I saw the movie."

"They're not always the same," Strange warned him.

"Did _you_ see it?"

"The movie? No. I read the book in high school."

Natasha came back into the room, then, and walked over to the table. She smiled at the three of them.

"Well?" Tony asked.

"Looks like I need to go to Belarus."

"Are you extracting?"

"Yes. Clint and Cap are going to go. Just to make things easier."

Stark nodded.

"Do you need me?"

"No. It's simple. The sooner we go, though, the sooner we get back." She looked at Peter. "Walk with me to my rooms so I can change?"

"Yeah."

He got up and she hooked her arm through his and they left the lounge.

 _"Shit."_

Strange had been watching them leave, but at the softly uttered curse he looked over at Stark.

"Not as simple as she's making it out to be?"

"Not if she has to move her contact."

Natasha would be doing anything she could to stop Peter from knowing it wasn't something simple, but Tony knew better.

"Are you sure there isn't anything I can do?"

"You'd only get in her way," Stark assured him. "She knows what she's doing."

OOOOOOOOO

"Are extractions dangerous?" Peter asked Natasha as they headed for her quarters.

She nodded.

"They _can_ be. But not with Steve and Clint with me. They'll look out for things, and make sure it goes smooth. It's a good chance to try out the new mirror tech, so we'll be fine."

"Are you sure you have to go?"

" _He's_ my contact, Peter. So he's my responsibility." Her arm let go of his and she put it around his shoulder.

"I'll be back in a couple of days. I expect you to keep Stephen from worrying about me, okay?"

"How do I do that?"

"Keep him distracted." He gave her a dubious look, but she just smiled and hugged him. "Don't _you_ worry about us, either, okay?"

"But-"

"Who am I going to be with?"

"Clint and Steve."

" _Captain America_ and _Hawkeye_. You should worry about the guys who are threatening my contact."

They went into her quarters, and he sat down on the sofa while she grabbed a flight suit and went into her room to change and pack a small bag. He couldn't help but worry, of course, but he knew that if she was going to be with anyone, those two were good choices.

"You'll check in?" he asked, when she reappeared, now ready to go.

"If I can. You'll keep Stephen company?"

"Yeah. If he lets me."

"Good." She pulled him to his feet. "Come on. You can walk me to the jet."

OOOOOOO

The sky was starting to darken, both because of the time of day and because there were clouds moving in. Strange and Stark were both at the jet when Natasha and Peter arrived. Stark was talking to Steve, who was also in a flight suit, and Strange was standing off to the side, listening while Clint explained where they were going and what exactly an extraction consisted of.

Natasha pulled Peter up the ramp with her and into the jet and told him to go warm up her seat for her.

"I'll be right back, I want to talk to Stephen."

"Okay."

He went to the cockpit and sat down in the pilot's seat, but carefully didn't touch anything. Natasha went over to where Barton was with Strange.

"Do me a favor, Clint? Let Peter preflight with you."

"Sure."

Barton left and Romanoff turned to Strange.

"Bad timing."

He nodded.

"Yes."

"I just finished asking Peter to keep you from worrying. I'm assuming you'll do the same for him?"

"Of course." He reached for her hand. "You'll be all right?"

"I've done this many times."

"If you need me, call me. I'll come."

Natasha smiled and brushed her free hand against his chin.

"I'll be back in a couple of days."

"Okay."

He pressed a very careful kiss against her cheek and stepped back, letting her hand go.

"Take care of Peter for me," she told him, turning on her heel and heading for the cockpit, where Peter and Clint had their heads together over the checklist for the preflight.

"How are we doing?" she asked, catching sight of Strange walking down the ramp to stand by Tony.

"Almost done," Peter said. He handed the checklist to Natasha, who hugged him and kissed his forehead.

"Don't worry, okay?"

"Okay."

"Stay out of the water until I get back," Barton told him, grinning.

"Yeah."

Peter walked out of the jet, too, passing Steve, who was walking up the ramp.

"We'll be back before you know it, Pete," he told him, slapping the boy on the shoulder.

That made Peter smile as he stood by Strange and Stark, watched the rear of the jet close and then the engines warm up and the plane take to the sky in a flashy vertical take-off.


	180. Chapter 181

Peter watched as the jet vanished into the evening sky, with Stark and Strange flanking him.

"They're going to be okay, right?" he asked Tony.

"Yeah." He put his hand on the boy's shoulder, giving him a little shake. "It's what they _train_ for Peter. What did Romanoff tell you?"

"Not to worry."

"There you go, then. _Don't_ worry." He looked at his watch. "Are you guys hungry, yet?"

"Not really," Peter replied.

He'd had a fairly large meal at the buffet place. Strange shook his head as well.

"Then let's find something to do."

He led them back to the lounge, where Pepper was sitting at one of the tables, flipping through a deck of cards, idly. She smiled when she saw them.

"Cards?"

Peter shook his head. She had a cribbage board out, but it really didn't matter what game they played; unless it was _Spoons_ , he was going to be on the losing team and he didn't want to drag one of them down with him.

"I'm going to finish _Lord of the Flies_ ," he told them.

"Bring it in here," Tony suggested. He didn't like the thought of him being holed up in his room by himself any more than necessary.

"Okay."

He left the lounge to go find the book – which he thought might still be in the field from the evening before – and Strange turned to Stark.

"Why don't you let me take him to the sanctum tonight? It'd be a good distraction."

Tony shrugged.

"Better yet. Take him _tomorrow_ when you guys can make a full day of it. If he goes tonight, it's just going to be a couple hours and then bedtime. Go tomorrow and he can run amok in the sanctum for the whole day."

"Are you still working on the fever remedy?" Pepper asked, curiously. She, of course, knew everything Tony was worried about, and the fevers had been a big issue.

The doctor hesitated. He hadn't planned on broaching the subject just yet, but decided that he might as well.

"I think I've _solved_ it, actually."

"Oh?" Now Stark was interested, but he hadn't missed the hesitation and was pretty sure something was coming that he wasn't going to like.

"Yes. Well, _perhaps_. It would need to be tested, of course. The more I think about it, though, the more I hesitate to actually implement any of it, since it would potentially inhibit the very traits that make Peter so special in the first place. Also, you won't _like_ it."

"Why not?" Pepper asked.

"Because I believe the solution includes the use of raw nutmeg."

"What?"

Strange wasn't surprised by the reaction; he was just surprised that it was so mild.

"When Peter and I first started talking about magic – when I first showed him what I was capable of doing – he didn't feel the tingle that he does now. I asked him specifically that day what he felt, because he was trying to prove that magic didn't exist, and he told me that he didn't feel anything. This was while he was still feeling the last vestiges of the nutmeg infection."

"So you think the nutmeg desensitized him to whatever tingle he feels when magic is used around him?"

"Right."

"Well, you're right. I _don't_ like it."

"That's understandable," Strange conceded. "I'm not a fan of the idea, myself. Not so much the nutmeg part – I can figure out the correct amount needed without making him sick again – but the more I learn about his sensitivities, the less I want to make them stop. A slight fever is a small price to pay for the benefits that come with his spider senses."

"Would it block the Infinity stones?"

"Not without a massive exposure to the nutmeg – and that _would_ hurt him, I'm sure."

"I'd rather the fever than the nutmeg," Stark admitted. "Give me a chance to think about it – and maybe discuss it with Peter, with you right there to explain the options."

"Absolutely. It's not something to rush into – which is why I haven't brought it up."

Before Stark could reply, Peter returned to the lounge with the book in hand. He didn't sit at the table with them, though. Instead he curled himself up on the nearest sofa.

"Last chance to play," Tony told him, holding up the cards.

The boy shook his head with a slight smile.

"I'll pass."

"We'd go easy on you."

"No, you wouldn't."

Pepper laughed.

"He's got you figured out."

"It might be the 17,000 dollars that he owes you," Strange pointed out, also amused.

Peter opened his book and the adults started their game. Less than twenty minutes later, they heard a soft thump and all three looked over. The book had fallen to the floor. Peter was asleep.

"What's he reading?" Pepper asked. "It can't be that boring."

"It isn't," Strange assured her. "He's just finally catching up on some sleep. We'll wake him up for dinner and then send him back to bed."

OOOOOOO

"Hey…"

A gentle hand was pressing lightly against his cheek, one finger tapping an odd staccato beat against his jaw. It was just weird enough to make Peter open his eyes, and he saw Pepper crouched down in front of him. He yawned and pulled himself upright.

"Hey."

"It's time to eat," she told him, brushing her hand along his face, now, absolutely in love with his sleepy expression. "Are you hungry?"

"Yeah. Thanks."

He looked around, and saw Tony and Strange watching him from the table.

"Come on, Peter," Stark said. "Dinner."

He got up and walked over and sat down in the chair that they were saving for him. The meal was already on the table, and it smelled amazing. He was always willing to eat pasta, and luckily, they had it often.

"Who won?"

"I did," Strange answered. "How was the book?"

"It's getting sad."

"Yeah. Wait until you read Animal Farm."

"I think I'll switch over to working on my Science homework. The reading is too depressing."

"I was wondering if you want to come to the sanctum tomorrow. Spend some time with me and Wong."

Peter looked over at Tony, who shrugged.

"We're keeping next week completely open, Peter," he told him, seriously. "Part of the _get some weight on you and let you catch up on some sleep_ program. If you want to spend some time at the sanctum you can – just stay away from the Infinity stone there."

Peter nodded.

"Yeah, that'd be great. Thanks."

"Take some homework with you," Tony suggested. "That library is amazing for being able to concentrate."

"That's the whole idea," Strange pointed out.

They talked about the various rooms in the sanctum while they ate – mostly for Pepper, who hadn't been there, yet, and when they were done eating, Peter said he was going to try to finish the book he was reading, despite the turn it was taking. Pepper excused herself to get ready for her work week and Tony and Stephen pulled out the chess board, since Strange was adamant about not playing Gin with Stark again. Pretty much not _ever_.

Stuffed to the gills and not really interested in the book, Peter was asleep almost immediately, and they let him sleep while they played their first game. Then Strange decided to call it a night. He didn't really have anything pressing to work on at the sanctum, but if Peter was coming, he told Tony that he might get his room ready, and maybe figure out some interesting things that they could show the boy. There was always something interesting in the sanctum, after all.

"You want help putting him to bed?" he asked when they got up.

Stark shook his head.

"I've got him. Are you coming for breakfast?"

"Lunch."

"Okay."

Strange vanished and Tony picked up Peter, carried him to his room and put him to bed. He pulled his shoes off but then just covered him warmly, and tucked the bear up against his side.

OOOOOOOO

 _The sky was light, so he could see the city that the jet was flying over. He didn't recognize it, but there were crowds of people doing what people did in cities every day. Some were shopping, some were carrying or walking with children at their sides – or in their arms – and many were simply rushing from here to there, going about their day with no idea that there was a plane above them, watching._

 _The jet landed on a roof, the mirror tech still active, reflecting clouds and buildings and the face of the man who suddenly rushed up to it. He saw the ramp open, saw a crowd of men running toward it and saw Natasha Romanoff and Steve Rogers rush into that crowd. Men were falling, some thrown to the side easily, and others being dropped by well-placed punches or kicks._

 _The open door on the roof of the building was suddenly filled with more men. So many that he didn't think that there was any way to get through them. No matter who it was that was trying._

Peter woke with a start, looking around. The room was dark, but the light shining on the field outside gave him enough to see by. He sat up, and reached for his watch, unerringly pressing the button he needed.

"Natasha?"

There was a long pause.

" _Peter? Are you okay?"_

"Yes. Are you guys?"

" _We're fine. We just got here."_

"Do you need help?"

" _No. We're doing okay. I'll check in with you later, okay? Go to sleep."_

"Okay."

Natasha heard the line go dead and looked over at Steve.

"What was that about?" Rogers asked, wiping his brow with the hand that wasn't holding his shield.

"I'm not sure. He sounded half asleep."

They turned back to the door, and the group of men sprawled in various stages of unconsciousness around it.

"Think your man is in here?"

"You don't put that many guards on an empty treasure chest," she replied.

"Good point."

OOOOOOOO

The soft alert chime woke Stark, instantly, and he sat up.

"Friday?"

" _It's Peter."_

"Where-"

The movement at the side of his bed startled him, and he looked over, expecting to see Pepper – although he knew she was asleep beside him. Instead it was Peter. The boy didn't say anything, he just sat down on the edge of the bed, shivering.

"Peter?"

Stark reached out and touched him, but the boy didn't respond.

"What's wrong?" Pepper asked, sitting up as well, and looking over. "Oh."

She reached out and took hold of Peter's arm, pulling him onto the bed and then pressing him down beside her. He trembled, but didn't resist, and she covered him carefully, hugging him close, trying to warm him, but she didn't try to wake him.

Stark hesitated. He was tempted to try and ask Peter what was wrong, wondering if he'd had a nightmare, or if that stupid gem was screwing with his head again. Instead, he lay back down, sandwiching the boy between himself and Pepper, silently reassuring him that everything was all right.

Peter's shaking eventually stopped and he seemed to fall into a deeper sleep. Pepper fell asleep as well, but Tony was awake a long time.


	181. Chapter 182

Peter knew right away that he wasn't in his own bed when he woke up. The room was _dark_ , for one thing, and _his_ room always had some level of illumination because of the light from the field spotlights. The bed felt different, as well. Bigger, softer and with more pillows than his own. When he rolled over and sat up, even in the dark he could see that the room itself was much different than his own. Bigger and with more furnishings and far cozier. More homey. Just as he was realizing that he'd seen it before and that it was Stark's room, the door opened and the lights came on and Tony walked in.

He walked over to the bed, and sat down on the edge of it, checking Peter's expression for any sign of stress or the aftermath of a nightmare, but only saw sleepiness and a little confusion.

"Good morning."

"Hey." Peter looked around, but Stark spoke up before he could ask the obvious.

"You came in about 3:00 this morning. Bad dream?"

"No. I don't _think_ so, anyway. I'm pretty sure I dreamed about Steve and Natasha… and the jet."

"Romanoff checked in a short time ago. She mentioned that you called her to check on her."

"I did?"

"Apparently." Stark gave him a tight smile, somewhat amused at the baffled look. "She said you asked if she needed any help."

"Oh. Is she okay?"

"They're fine. They have some cleaning up to do, but they'll be back tomorrow sometime. Are you ready to get up? We should probably get you fed."

"Yeah." He climbed out of the bed, still feeling a little off kilter. "I'm sorry if I – where's Pepper?"

He realized that if he'd invaded their room the night before, he'd probably disturbed both of them, and not _just_ Mr. Stark.

"She had to go," Stark told him as they headed into his living area. "She said to tell you that you were good company and not to be sorry for something you have no control over. And she's _right_. About all of it."

"It _feels_ like I should be able to control it," Peter told him, just a little frustrated by the whole situation but relieved that he didn't seem too freaked out that he hadn't stopped sleepwalking, after all.

They sat at the bar, and Tony pulled a bottle of orange juice and poured him a glass.

"What kind of dream did you have?" he asked. "About Natasha and Steve, I mean?"

Something had to make him think they needed help, after all.

"They were on a roof beating up a bunch of guys."

"Huh. Well, they might have been. So that would be the Mind stone messing with you again, I suppose. it's clearly not showing you any of your own memories - maybe just helping you keep track of the others..."

"Yeah, must be."

He didn't have any reason to come up with a dream like that all on his own, after all.

"Well, they're fine, so no worrying about them, okay?"

"Okay."

"Stephen's going to come collect you sometime around lunch. Until then, I get you to myself for a change."

He'd been sharing the boy far too much, lately, as far as he was concerned.

"What are we going to do?"

"You're going to eat breakfast, and then we're going to work on an upgrade in your suit."

Which immediately got his attention – and made him smile with excitement. All the best things as far as he was concerned. Working with Stark, working with technology that was almost certainly going to be cutting edge, and working on the Spiderman suit.

"Sweet."

Tony echoed the smile.

"I thought you'd like that plan."

OOOOOOOOO

Strange appeared in the compound around noon. He started in the corridor outside of Peter's room, and then allowed the cloak to guide him towards Stark's quarters. He would have _knocked_ , but by the time he'd reached the door, the handle had already been jimmied open and the door was open. Magical relics rarely respected personal space enough to knock, after all, and the cloak had already demonstrated that there was no such thing as a personal bubble as far as it was concerned.

He walked into Stark's rooms and saw the cloak vanishing into the work area. By now he knew that Tony actually had several places in the facility that he liked to do his tinkering, but the room off his personal quarters was one of his preferred spots. He found Peter dressed in the Spiderman suit, minus the hood, dealing with the advances of the cloak, which was trying to wrap itself around him while avoiding Stark, who was scowling at the floating piece of fabric. Tony had a handful of diagnostic equipment and was trying not to drop them, and Peter was holding a tablet in one hand and had apparently already dropped the stylus he'd been using.

Obviously they were trying to do something delicate involving the suit and the cloak was in the way.

"Stephen? A little _help_ here?"

Strange smiled and shrugged.

"I don't know what you expect me to do, Tony. The heart wants what the heart wants."

Peter grinned at the way Stark rolled his eyes.

"We're done, here," Tony said to the boy. "Go ahead and hang the suit up, okay?"

"Yeah."

"What are you working on?" Strange asked as Peter left, the cloak right there with him.

"Upgrading the interface of his AI. I'd _like_ to update the whole GPS thing, too, once we get it working. If he gets into trouble, it might come in handy to have you be able to find him instantly – as opposed to me flying over the city trying to get a lock on him."

"It wouldn't hurt to add it to your Ironman suit, as well," Strange pointed out. It was his way of telling Stark – without actually _saying_ it – that he was more than willing to make himself available to any of them if they needed him. Which made Tony cock his head and smile.

"Good idea."

"I get them occasionally."

"What do you have planned for today?" he asked as Peter returned, wearing jeans and a t-shirt, now, with the cloak wrapped firmly around his shoulders, running a corner of cloth through his hair.

"Wong and I are going to give Peter a demonstration of some practical applications of magic."

"Like?"

"Like how magic is used in combat."

Peter looked interested, but Tony had to admit that he was, as well.

"You're going to fight each other with magic?" Peter asked, just to make sure he was hearing what he thought he was hearing.

"Yes." Strange turned to Stark. "Want to watch?"

"Are you kidding?"

Who wouldn't?

The doctor smiled.

"I'll take that as a yes. Have you eaten, yet?"

"No. We were waiting for you."

"That's nice."

Stark smirked.

"We figured you could _buy_."

Now it was Stephen's turn to roll his eyes, which still amused Peter – and Stark.

"Thanks."


	182. Chapter 183

The room in the sanctum was even larger than the one that housed the pedestal the Time stone sat on. Peter stood beside Wong, who had joined them for lunch and had then led them to what Strange called the sparring room. It was just a big, empty room without windows and only one door. The walls appeared to be concrete, or some kind of stone – it certainly wasn't wood.

"This place impresses me more every time I come here," Tony said, looking around. Not so much the room, because anyone could furnish an empty room, but the fact that from the outside a person would never imagine that there even _was_ a room the size of the sparring room in the place.

Peter nodded, reaching out to touch the wall that was closest to him, trying to figure out what it was made of. Draped over his shoulder the cloak reached out to touch it as well, even though it clearly wasn't interested in the wall. Only Peter.

"Stand over to the side, here," Strange told them, walking into the room to join them. He gestured toward the wall closest to them, and then waved his hand. A shining yellow barricade suddenly appeared out of nowhere, following the motion that he made. It was apparently some kind of shield, and it blocked the two non-magicians from the rest of the room.

Peter and Stark both reached out and felt the glowing wall, Peter almost expecting to get zapped, but trusting his spider senses to warn him if it had been a dumb idea. It was solid, like transparent – if not slightly glowy – metal.

"That will keep you guys safe in case one of us sends a bolt your way accidentally," Wong told them. He looked fairly confident, though.

The two magic users faced each other, and their first pass was very similar to what Peter had seen – and experienced – with Natasha. Purely martial. Both men were fast, and no blows actually got through the defense of either.

They separated, and this time a flash of light from Wong's right hand suddenly turned into what looked like several glowing darts, all headed straight for Strange. Faster than thought it seemed, the doctor lifted his hand and there was a glowing light, about the size of Steve's shield, in front of him. The darts hit the shield and disintegrated in a flashy shower of light, and Strange retaliated with a similar attack, only with both hands.

Wong's response was a portal that opened with a simple motion of one hand, swallowing the darts as they approached and a retaliatory barrage of evil looking knives that didn't even get close to Strange, who stepped to his right and waved them aside with a simple motion. The knives clattered to the floor near where Peter and Tony were watching.

"Wow…"

Strange acknowledged Peter's reaction with a wink, but didn't turn his attention from Wong. An instant later there was what looked like a whip, only made of pure energy, in the doctor's hand. He snaked it out at Wong, but the other man dodged and made his own shield with one hand and a motion with the other that caught the end of the whip and jerked it out of Strange's hand.

They traded attacks for several more minutes, each attempt crazier and more dangerous looking than the next, and all avoided by the other. By the time the last glowing darts were absorbed by a pure light coming from Strange's fingers the two had made it clear that magic was a lot more than simply bringing in a fresh change of clothes or moving yourself instantaneously from one place to the other.

Wong lowered the barrier protecting Peter and Tony, and Stark shook his head.

"That was pretty impressive."

"Thanks."

Neither of the magicians had even broken a sweat, although it was clear that it wasn't a walk in the park to fend off a magical attack.

"Do those shield things work against physical objects, too?" Peter asked, curiously.

Wong produced one with a wave of his hand and took a few steps back, holding it in front of him. Strange produced a rock and handed it to Peter.

"Try it."

Well aware that the man was fast enough that even if the magic didn't work the rock certainly wouldn't land, Peter chucked the rock at Wong as hard as he could. It shattered into several pieces when it hit the shield.

Tony activated the arm of his Ironman suit and pointed it at Wong. An instant later one of the mini rocket launchers deployed from the side of his forearm. He didn't actually fire it, though; he waited for a response.

"Go ahead," Wong told him.

Stark fired the rocket and it blew up on impact with the shield. The glow faded just a bit, but the shield stayed, and Tony shook his head, deactivating the suit.

"That probably comes in handy."

"Yes."

"Anyone can learn this stuff?" Stark asked as Strange waved them toward the door.

The sparring room was great for showing off the possibilities of magic, but not so comfortable for conversations, since there wasn't any place to sit.

"It's easier for some than others," Strange told him. "And some things are much simpler than others. We didn't even show you the other dimensions, for example. But that is definitely an aspect that cannot be ignored when learning."

They went to the downstairs library, and they sat down at one of the tables.

"Then there are the spells that come from the books," Wong said. "Different incantations that have different applications, and the knowledge that comes with each one learned – and each one that is _applied_."

"All the books in the libraries are spell books?" Peter asked, looking around.

"Hardly," Strange answered. "Many are histories, lore, mundane knowledge passed on from peoples that haven't existed in eons and some are recipes – like the poultice Wong found for your bruises."

"But many have a spell or two in them," Wong told him.

"So, just to clarify… if I had the patience, I could learn to do that shield thing with my hand…?" Tony asked.

"Probably," Strange conceded. "You're intelligent, and fairly self-disciplined. Are you interested in it?"

"No. I have too much on my hands already just being Ironman and working with the Avengers." Not to mention everything else on his plate – including one very special teenager. "But it's amazing stuff, I have to admit."

"Yeah," Peter agreed.

Strange looked at the boy.

"Natasha has already mentioned having me spar with you at times – to expose you to different disciplines – so you'll have a chance to learn some of the martial aspects, at any rate."

"Today?"

"No. Your training is her responsibility – and Tony's. It's better that she sets that up so she knows where your abilities are. I'm always willing whenever I'm available, though."

"As am I," Wong told him.

Tony nodded his approval of that, and looked at Strange.

"Okay, I've seen enough to be impressed. I'm ready to head back to the compound. You guys can keep him out of trouble, right?"

"Of course."

Stark looked at Peter as he stood up.

"You good?"

"Yeah."

"Got your homework?"

"Yeah."

"Clean clothes?"

Peter smiled.

"Yeah."

"Teddy bear?"

The boy rolled his eyes.

"He'll be fine, Tony," Strange told him. "When do you want him back tomorrow?"

"Whenever you guys get tired of him." Stark winked at Peter. "Bring him home and we'll take him off your hands."

Stephen smiled.

"Look for us sometime around midday, then. Probably not any sooner."

"I don't need to tell you to stay away from that Time stone, Peter, right?"

"No."

"He'll be fine, dad," Strange told him, amused. He waved his hand in a circle, and a portal opened, showing the terminus as Stark's quarters. "We'll work on that GPS spell tomorrow if you have the time."

"Sounds good."

A moment later, Stark was gone and the portal closed behind him.


	183. Chapter 184

After Stark left, Peter and Strange explored the sanctum, which was something that the doctor was beginning to figure out that the boy could literally do for hours. He was pleased that Peter enjoyed the place, because _he_ did, too, and it gave him a chance to show it off to an appreciative audience. The Cloak of Levitation accompanied them, humming cheerfully in the back of Peter's mind the entire time, happy to show him the sanctum, as well. They only stopped when Wong came to find them and told them it was time to eat.

Dinner was tacos. Fairly simple, made even more so by the fact that Wong simply laid out everything anyone could want in a taco or taco salad or burrito along the island and everyone built their own. They ate at the island in the kitchen rather than drag their meal over to the dining room, and Peter was on his fourth taco when his watch chimed at him.

He looked down, curiously, and then smiled and set his taco back on his plate and pressed the button that was beeping softly at him.

"Natasha."

" _Hey, Peter. I thought I'd call and check in on you."_

"I'm glad you did. How are you guys?"

" _Busy. And, of course, it's starting to_ rain _here."_

He smiled. She sounded a little tired, but he didn't know what time it was there, so he didn't know if it was morning or night to tell her to go to bed.

 _Two AM_

The thought came to his mind before he could respond to her, and he recognized the work of the Mind stone, which was apparently still hovering in the back of his mind. In this case, though, it was not only a good thing, it was _helpful_. And harmless.

"What are you doing up so late?"

" _Just thinking about my guys. What are you doing?"_

"I'm at the sanctum. We're having dinner. Tacos."

He looked over at Strange, who was seated right beside him and probably had no trouble hearing the conversation. He loved it when Natasha called them her guys. There was no doubt who she was referring to, either. She'd done it before.

" _Is Stephen with you?"_

"Yeah."

"Tell her I said hello," Strange told him.

"He says to say hello."

" _Tell him hi, back. What did you do today?"_

"Mr. Stark and I watched Doctor Strange and Wong spar with magic, and then we looked around the sanctum before dinner. When we're done eating I'm going to do some homework. What about you?"

" _We finished what we needed to do here,"_ came a somewhat evasive answer. He wasn't sure if she didn't want him to know exactly what she'd done, or if she was worried someone on her end would hear it. _"We have some things to do in the morning, but then we'll be heading home."_

"Ask when she'll be home," Strange told him.

"When will you be home?"

" _Start looking for us sometime around lunch. Give or take. Depends on who's flying."_

"Okay. I miss you."

" _I miss you, too. I'll bring you back a surprise – and another shirt for Stephen."_

Peter grinned at that.

"Tell her to go to bed," Strange told him, cuffing him lightly on the shoulder for finding that so amusing.

"Doctor Strange said to tell you to go to bed."

" _I'm already there. Get your homework done and have fun. I'll see you tomorrow."_

"Goodnight."

She signed off, and so did he.

"It's good to hear everything went well," Strange said.

"Yeah." He picked his taco back up. "I was worried about them."

Strange nodded.

"I have a feeling that's something you're going to have to get _used_ to, Peter," he said. "She's hip deep in dangerous things quite often, apparently."

"He's not the only one," Wong muttered.

"What?"

"Nothing." He took a bite of his taco and gave the doctor an innocent look as he chewed.

OOOOOOOOOO

Peter worked on his homework in the library on the third floor. He wasn't alone. Not only was the cloak hanging over his shoulder, but Wong and Strange were both doing their own studying, each man sitting at the table with books open in front of them. Mr. Stark had been right, Peter found. The library was a place that was incredibly easy to get things done in. They hadn't allowed him to bring all that much homework – most likely to keep him from stressing about getting it done – but he managed to finish all that he'd brought, and wished that he'd brought more, since it had been so easy.

He thought about asking if Doctor Strange could just bring some more to him. He knew where it was on the coffee table in his room and it probably wouldn't be that hard to do, but figured it would start another conversation about not worrying about getting it done – even though he could have gotten a lot more finished than he had, and that thought kind of drove him crazy.

Instead, he decided to call it a night, and told the two that he was going to go to bed. Strange looked at his watch and decided that he might as well, also.

The three walked down to the second floor, with the cloak still draped over Peter's shoulder and clearly not intending to leave the boy. Which was fine with Strange. There was no guarantee that Peter wasn't going to sleepwalk, and the sanctum was not the safest place in the world to do it, but the cloak would keep him safe, even if he did. He was fairly certain the cloak would help keep Peter in his bed, though.

He smiled when he went into his room and closed the door. When he'd brought his overnight bag in and threw it on the bed earlier, he'd noticed that either Wong or Doctor Strange had tried to make the place a little homier by adding in a couple of copies of the same pictures that Pepper had sent to Strange. On the stand by his bed, there was a photo of him and Natasha sleeping against Doctor Strange in the limo, and another of Strange and Stark holding puppies. There was also one of Peter and May, which he _knew_ Pepper hadn't sent, and made it that much better.

The cloak left his shoulder long enough for him to change into a pair of sweats, which were more comfortable than pajamas, and when he'd gotten into bed and shut off the light, he felt it drape itself over the blankets, cheerful and comfortable.

It almost immediately started in on its lullaby and not surprisingly, Peter was soon asleep.

OOOOOOOOO

 _"How much homework do you have left?"_

 _Peter looked at the group in front of him. All of his teachers, and – for some reason – one of the lunch ladies at his school._

 _"A ton."_

 _"You should have brought more."_

 _"I know. I'm not worried, though."_

 _His science teacher didn't look convinced._

 _"You're not going to get caught up if you don't do it."_

 _"I will."_

 _'You could have finished more."_

 _"I know."_

 _"Why didn't you bring more?"_

 _"I didn't know it would be so easy."_

 _"So get more. This place is ideal for homework and study."_

 _"I don't have more, and I can't get more. It can wait."_

 _He didn't feel quite so certain about that, now, though. Not with the lunch lady staring at him so disapprovingly._

 _"Get more."_

 _"I can't."_

 _"Bring more."_

 _"I don't know how."_

 _Suddenly, though, he_ did _know how. An image of Stephen Strange flashed into his mind, and while Peter didn't know how to bring his homework to him, Doctor Strange did, and it was ridiculously easy._

He climbed out of his bed and headed for the library, with the Cloak of Levitation hovering right behind him but not touching him, since it had been told not to wake him up the last time the boy had done this.

It watched as Peter – _its_ Peter as far as it was concerned – went into the room unchallenged. There were safety protocols in place to keep strangers from entering the room, of course, but Peter was already acknowledged by those safety measures to be an acceptable visitor and no alarm sounded. The boy went to the table where he'd left his finished work and sat down. A moment later there was another small stack in front of him on the table. He picked up his pen and started working on it, not recognizing or acknowledging the astonishment that was emanating from the cloak that was still hovering at his side.

OOOOOOOOO

Strange was pulled from a very pleasant dream involving a specific Avenger by frantic tapping on his cheek. He tried to ignore it for a moment, but it was demanding and not to be dismissed. He jolted awake, realizing it was the cloak and that there could only be one reason that it would come find him.

He got out of bed immediately.

"Where is he?"

It swept to the door, turning to wait for him, but he was right behind it. Like a bloodhound, it led him to the library and the sleeping form at the table, his head resting on the hard granite of the heavy study table, a pen in his limp hand and a stack of papers under his cheek. He was only wearing a pair of sweats and was shivering. Strange wondered if the boy had had some extra work in his bag and had decided that he'd work on it instead of sleeping, or if he'd been sleepwalking like he had the other night. When he pulled one of the papers out from under his head, he knew by the answers that Peter hadn't been awake when doing the work. Not only were they wrong, many of the answers were _very_ wrong.

He shook his head and picked the boy up. With the cloak hovering protectively beside him, he carried Peter back to his room. If Natasha was right, he'd sleep the rest of the night, now. Strange tucked Peter into his bed, covering him warmly to counter the shivering.

"If he wakes up again come and get me," he told the cloak, which had already draped itself over the boy.

The cloak didn't reply, of course, but it _did_ lift a corner of fabric and shooed him away with the motion it had picked up from Stark. It made itself heavier, and warmer, and pressed down on the sleeping boy.

Strange waited a moment, just to be sure, and then went back to his bed. But he didn't sleep quite as soundly as he had before.


	184. Chapter 185

The sun was shining it the window in Peter's room when he woke up. Or maybe it was _why_ he woke up. He wasn't sure. He opened his eyes and looked around, relieved to see that he was in his own bed and hadn't crawled into someone else's in the middle of the night.

The cloak was covering him and as soon as it realized he was awake it started crooning in his mind. Not quite the usual cheerful sensation that it would sometimes give off when he woke up with it, however, this one seemed to have a tone of a question in it. As if it wanted to ask him something, but obviously couldn't. It was still more than happy to caress his cheek and ears, though, which he supposed was always a good way to be woken up.

He sat up and rubbed his face, torn between tired and hungry, and hungry won out. He looked at his watch; it wasn't late, but not so early that he'd have to raid the almost certainly empty refrigerator in the kitchen to find something to eat. The cloak moved itself out of the way after giving his cheek a final caress and Peter got out of bed and pulled on some clean clothes before leaving his room.

"Is Doctor Strange in the library?" he asked it, figuring that the relic would know for sure. It was attuned to him, after all.

The response was a yes and the boy turned from the downward staircase toward the one that would lead him to the library, where he found Strange and Wong both sitting at the main table. Wong was studying a book, and Strange was looking through Peter's homework. Both looked up when he entered the room.

"Good morning, Peter."

"Hi." He walked over with a grin. "Woke up in my own bed this morning."

The doctor shook his head.

"Actually, that's where I put you after finding you asleep here – where you apparently fell asleep working on your homework."

Peter frowned.

"I finished my homework before I went to bed."

Strange shrugged.

"You must have missed some, then," he told the boy, holding up the paper that he'd been looking through. "This one has all the indicators of being completed while sleepwalking – if we use the last batch as a control."

Wong looked up from his book.

"I'm certain Mickey Mouse did not discover Pluto – and a proctologist certainly did not discover Uranus."

"Seriously?" Peter reached over and took the paper from Strange, and shook his head. He didn't think that he'd even taken any History papers with him. As far as he remembered it had been all tech and English. Sure enough, though, the paper was definitely neither, and completely wrong. "So much for my little victories…"

"It's not that bad, Peter," Strange told him, patting his shoulder. "As long as it's simple sleepwalking, we can solve it. May solved it last time, when you were little, and Wong might have the solution this time."

"A _magical_ one?"

"An herbal one, more likely," Wong told him. "Although there are a couple of spells that would work short term to keep you in your bed at night. I'm still searching for the right combination, but I'm sure I saw something once that would work. It's just a matter of finding it again."

"There's plenty of time to look," Strange told them both. "Shall we go have breakfast?"

"Yeah."

They walked down to the kitchen and Wong changed the subject to Peter's spider senses. He was curious about them. Not the part that felt magic but the fact that he would know something was happening, as he'd explained them to Strange back when he was telling the doctor about his capabilities.

Peter tried to explain it as they entered the kitchen, but was sure he didn't do a very good job of it, since he was sure if _he_ was the one listening to the conversation he'd have been completely confused. Suddenly Strange threw an orange at him without warning and Peter not only knew it was coming but caught it before the cloak could move to deflect it from hitting him.

The doctor smiled.

"Practical demonstrations are sometimes more effective to explain something that is hard to describe."

"How did you know it was coming?" Wong asked.

"I just get a feeling," Peter said. "A tingling."

"The reflexes are impressive, too," Wong told him.

'"He's a natural with hand to hand," Strange told his friend. "Natasha couldn't land on him, and I know she was trying to."

Peter shrugged, feeling uncomfortable at that. It seemed to him that they were giving him credit for something he didn't deserve to be recognized for.

"I didn't have anything to do with it, though. You guys are good because you put in a lot of hard work. I just had a freak accident."

"Don't belittle your accomplishments, Peter," Strange said. "You have the discipline to understand and decide how best to use those abilities for the good of the people around you. That didn't come with the bite of a spider; that comes with intelligence, maturity and courage."

"I'd like to see a bit more of your abilities," Wong said as he opened the fridge. "Not the swinging – I've been told that is amazing – but the rest. Whatever you are willing to demonstrate."

"Sure."

" _After_ breakfast," Strange told them.

OOOOOOOOO

"Are you sure about this?"

"Yeah."

Strange frowned as well.

"It's not a very good idea, Peter… I doubt Tony would approve."

The boy shrugged.

"Sometimes a practical demonstration can be more effective than trying to describe something hard to explain."

The frown turned into a scowl as Peter threw his own words back at him.

"Still…"

"They're not smart force bolts, right?"

"What do you mean?"

"Like heat seekers. They come at me and if they miss, they don't turn around and come back for another try, right?"

"No."

"Then I'll be fine."

They were in the sparring room once more, but this time Peter was standing in the middle of the room, not against a wall, and when Wong had asked for a demonstration of Peter's agility and speed, the boy had suggested it would be easier to show if one of the magicians threw some of the force bolts that they'd been using the day before at him.

"It could seriously injure you if one hit you," Wong said.

"You could use _rocks_ , I guess," Peter suggested. "But the magical attack is easier to see."

"Do you have any idea the crap I would catch from Tony if I allowed you to be injured? Not to mention what Natasha would say?"

Before Peter could answer, Wong casually tossed a magical energy bolt at him. He felt it coming and dodged it simply by stepping to the side. The only problem was that the cloak had seen it coming and tried to move him to the opposite side and had almost pulled him back into the line of fire.

"I don't have an emotional investment in either of them" he explained when Strange glared at him. Wong looked pleased at the way Peter had avoided the physical attack. "Very good."

"It's even easier than I thought," Peter told them. "Not only do I know it's coming, but I can _feel_ it because it's magical, too."

"Really?"

"Except for almost being yanked back, yeah."

"Which did you feel, first?" Wong asked, curiously. "The magic, or the impending attack?"

"I'm not sure," he admitted. "Try it again."

Peter stepped back a few spaces, and told the cloak that he was fine and not to try and save him. It grumbled into his mind uncertainly.

Wong tossed another bolt at him, which he once more dodged.

"Not the magic."

The rest of the morning found the three of them in that same room, with the boy dodging all kinds of magical attacks from Strange and Wong – mostly _Wong_ , because Stephen found it a bit difficult to send any kind of attack at Peter – undoubtedly for the same reason the boy had trouble fighting Natasha in hand to hand. The attacks were all physical, and by the time Strange called a stop to it to head back to the Avengers facility, they were coming fast and furious.

Nothing landed.

"That's amazing, Peter," Wong said as they left the room so the boy could go gather his bag and his homework. "I don't know how you'd fare against other kinds of magical attacks, but when it comes to the physical ones, you have a good start in defense."

Strange had to agree.

"Meet me at the bottom of the stairway," he told Peter, ruffling his hair, cheerfully.

The boy trotted off, heading for his room and then the library, with the cloak wrapped around his shoulders.

"Could you imagine the advantage he'd have if he were a magic user?" Wong said. "If he felt the magic building for the attack? He might even be able to learn to recognize what kind of spell was going to be cast before the attacker even started casting it…"

"He's not, though," Strange reminded him. "And he's going to be an _Avenger_ , remember?"

"The Avengers could have a magician."

"Wong…"

"I'm just saying…"

"Don't you have a spell to find?"

Wong rolled his eyes.

OOOOOOOOO

They ended up in Peter's quarters when Strange brought them back to the compound. It was the easiest way to make sure they didn't hit anyone coming in – Strange had never done that before, but he told Peter that it had been known to happen, so it was something to be avoided if possible. Besides, Peter needed to drop his things off anyway, so it was most convenient.

He dropped his bag, and the homework, and Strange activated the appropriate button on his own watch.

"Tony?"

The reply was almost instant.

" _Are you back?"_

"Yes."

" _I'm in the lounge."_

"We'll be there in a minute."

He and Peter headed for the lounge, but as they were walking through the corridor, they passed a window, and Peter caught a motion in the sky.

"They're back!"

He turned on his heel and ran for the exit, eager to meet the others when they landed. Strange looked out the window and saw that the plane was just starting to settle on its pad, and decided that he would go meet the jet, first, and then meet Tony in the lounge once he'd greeted her. _Them_.

He turned and headed for the entrance as well, but at a bit more sedate a pace.

OOOOOOOOOO

"Well, that was an adventure," Steve said as he felt the jet settle on its wheels and Barton powered down the engines. "Remind me again why we need anyone in Belarus?"

"Because they have great vodka," Barton told him, turning off a few switches and then unbuckling his harness so he could get up and stretch.

"And they're key to the Eastern European pact that we're trying to set up," Romanoff added, also standing up and stretching.

"I'm beat," Clint told them. "I need a hot bath and a long nap – and a sandwich."

Steve nodded his agreement with that, and slapped the switch that lowered the ramp.

"Me, too."

The ramp hadn't even lowered completely when Peter came thundering up it, excitement and happiness practically radiating from his entire being as he caught Natasha up in a hug almost before she realized he was there. The cloak wrapped itself around her as well, catching Peter's cheer and allowing itself to become an extension of it.

Any weariness she might have felt dissolved under the joyful assault and she grinned and hugged him back.

"I missed you," the boy told her when he let her go, beaming at her.

"I missed you, too," she assured him, pressing a kiss against his cheek and feeling about as cheerful as she could ever remember feeling.

"Did you miss me, too?" Clint asked, smiling.

Peter hugged him, just as hard. He and Barton were fast becoming friends, and Peter _had_ missed him – and worried about him.

"Yeah."

"Where's my love?" Rogers asked, holding his arms open and refusing to be on the outside of the hugfest.

The boy laughed and hugged Captain America, who ruffled his hair when he did and hugged him back. He certainly brightened the place up, Steve had to admit. He let Peter go, picked up his travel bag and looked at the others.

"We'll debrief tomorrow, I think. I want some rest. Pete, come find me later if I don't find you first. I brought you back a present."

"Really?"

"Of course."

Rogers headed down the ramp, and Clint punched Peter's arm.

"I brought you something, too. You can have it later, once I unpack."

Hawkeye followed Steve down the ramp, nodding a hello to Strange who was just arriving on the pad.

Natasha hugged Peter, again.

"My present is better than theirs, just so you know."

"You didn't have to bring me _anything_."

"We know," she assured him. "It's more bearable to be gone if you have someone to buy something for waiting at home." She saw Strange heading up the ramp and picked up her bag. "Would you carry this to my rooms for me?"

"Yeah."

He'd have carried _her_ , if she'd asked him to.

"No looking for presents."

He grinned and trotted down the ramp, carrying the heavy bag easily.

"I guess you don't need a puppy, after all," Stephen told her when he joined her in the jet. "That looked like a pretty cheerful greeting for someone to come home to."

She smiled and put her arms around him, leaning into him.

"It almost made it worth leaving," she agreed. "How is he doing?"

"Sleepwalking, but seems fine otherwise." Strange rested his chin on the top of her head and held her for a long moment. "He was worried about you."

"Just him?"

Stephen shook his head, pulling back so he could see her, but not letting her go.

"I was worried, too."

She kissed him, thinking that _that_ was a nice way to be greeted after a long flight, also.

"We were fine. In and out, like clockwork."

"Good." Now he _did_ let her go, but he offered her his arm. "Come on, I'll walk you to your room."


	185. Chapter 186

Peter wasn't in Romanoff's rooms when she and Strange arrived. Her bag was on her bed, though, testimony that he'd _been_ there. She debated finding him to give him his souvenir, but decided that she could do that later, after she'd had a chance to clean up and maybe get some rest. Strange noticed the absence as well.

"We were on our way to meet Tony when he saw the jet landing," he told her, sitting on the arm of her sofa so he could watch her. Natasha walked over and stood in front of him, a silent request to be held that he didn't ignore. He was glad to see her, too. He didn't stand up, but he _did_ put his arms around her. "He probably assumed you'd want some time to relax."

"I'm going to soak for as long as I can and then get some sleep," she said. "Are you going to be around later?"

"Yes. I'll be in the lounge, or in Tony's workroom."

"Do I even _want_ to know what you two are working on?" She asked, curiously.

"Integrating GPS and magic," he replied. "We're trying to figure out how I can find someone with a portal spell using the GPS on the watches."

"That could come in handy someday."

"It's worth looking into," he agreed. He let her go and stood up. "I'm going to let you get some rest. Come find me later."

"What if I need someone to wash my back?"

Strange smiled and pointed to his watch.

"You know how to reach me. Get some rest."

"I will."

He glanced at her coffee table and a tray appeared, holding a plate of finger foods and a pot of coffee. She smiled a thank you, and he left.

OOOOOOOO

Peter _was_ in the lounge. He was sitting in the corner with Stark when Strange arrived. The two were setting up the chess board, and the boy was trying to get Tony's queen from the cloak, which had grabbed it and was holding it hostage, amusing itself by annoying Stark.

"You're a glutton for punishment," Stephen told Tony as he sat down.

Stark shrugged, winking at Peter.

"I just can't handle _losing_. Did you guys have a good time?"

It was Peter who answered.

"Yeah. We looked around the sanctum, and had tacos and tried out my spider senses against magic attacks."

Tony looked over at Strange who wished idly that the boy wasn't so good at dropping bombshells into a normal conversation.

"What?"

"We threw magic at him to see if he could dodge it," Strange told him, nonchalantly. "Wong was curious."

"And _did_ he?"

The doctor smiled.

"He's amazingly fast, Tony. Wong was trying to hit him, and wasn't even getting close."

Torn between concern and pride, Stark was obviously debating how to respond to that. Instead, he changed the subject.

"Any sleepwalking?"

"Yes. Of the _homework_ variety," Strange told him. "You will be interested to know that the atmosphere of Jupiter is cotton candy and the core of the Earth is Cheese Whiz."

Tony frowned, looking at Peter.

"I thought you weren't going to stress the homework?"

"I'm _not_ ," Peter told him, giving up on getting his queen back from the cloak. "I even told my teachers it wasn't a big deal."

"What?"

Both men looked confused, now.

"In my _dream_ ," Peter explained. "They were all there, telling me to get it done, and that I should have brought more to do, but I told them that there was no hurry. But then the _lunch lady_ started in with her disproving looks and…" he trailed off, shrugging.

Stark looked over at Strange.

"What did you put in those _tacos_?"

Stephen smiled.

"The cloak came and woke me, and I found him asleep in the library. I put him to bed."

"We'll work on that," Stark said. True to their deal, he was trying very hard not to allow Peter to see them get worked up over the sleepwalking.

"Wong is looking for a magical solution," Strange told him, taking Tony's queen from the cloak. "Or an _herbal_ one."

" _Is_ there one?"

"If there is, he's the one that will find it."

"Okay." He looked at Peter. " _Are_ you stressing about the homework?"

"No. but I _do_ want to get it done."

"You will. Did you finish the _Lord of the Flies_?"

"Yeah."

"And the other one?"

"No. I haven't started it, yet."

"So you can work on that, today." The boy liked to read, so it wouldn't be stressful, and he'd feel like he was accomplishing something.

"Okay."

The _Animal Farm_ book suddenly appeared in Peter's hand, startling him so much that he dropped it. Even more, it startled _Strange_ , who dropped the queen onto the chess board with a clatter.

Tony noticed, of course, and he looked at the doctor, who was staring at Peter.

"Did you do that?"

Strange shook his head, but he was still looking at the boy.

"No."

"What?"

"Peter?" the doctor asked. "How did you do that?"

"I _didn't_." But even as he said it, he thought that he must have. He didn't feel the slight tingle that would have indicated that Strange had summoned the book to them.

"Did _you_ teach him that?" Tony asked Strange.

"No." Strange was still thunderstruck, and Stark could tell he was as shocked as anyone. "Did _Wong_ show you how to do it?"

"No," Peter told him. "I didn't do it." He felt a surge of disagreement from the cloak and turned to look at it. "I _did_?"

Agreement – and a definite yes.

"What's it saying?" Tony asked, alarmed at how pale Peter suddenly was.

"It says I did."

Strange picked up the book and it vanished.

"It's on your coffee table," he said. "Do it again."

"I don't know _how_ ," Peter told him, completely bewildered and well on his way to being distraught. The cloak wrapped itself around him, engulfing him in reassurance that wasn't getting through just then.

" _Stop_." Tony's voice was calm, where the other two were clearly rattled. Peter looked terrified, and Stephen was stunned. "Bring the book back."

"I don't know-"

"Not you, Peter," Tony interrupted, gently. "Stephen, bring it back."

The book appeared on the table once more and surprising them, Stark looked at the cloak.

"Did _you_ bring the book the first time?"

Peter shook his head.

"It says no."

"Did Peter?"

"I _didn't_ ," Peter told it when it gave an affirmative response – _and_ Tony. "I don't know how."

"Peter, calm down. Is it saying you _did_?"

"Yes."

"It's _sure_ it was you and not Stephen?"

Peter nodded and Stark held up a hand to stop Strange's automatic denial that he'd summoned it.

"Yes."

"Okay." He looked at the doctor. "You told me _anyone_ can do magic – if they learn how, right?"

"To a varying degree, yes. Some have more latent ability than others and-"

"Yes or no, Stephen?"

"Yes."

"Then Peter could have brought the book here _if_ he knew how?"

"I don't-"

This time it was Peter that Stark interrupted with his upraised hand.

"Yes. If he knew _how_ , he certainly could have."

He and Wong had already decided that Peter was more than capable of learning to wield magic. If he hadn't been born with the latent talent – which he probably _had_ – then it had almost definitely been triggered by the same bite that gave him his other abilities.

"So let me ask you this," Tony said, looking at Strange. "Could the _Mind stone_ that's linked with Peter get in _your_ head, learn how to do the summon thing and then use _his_ underlying ability to bring it here?"

The cloak gave an affirmative response in Peter's mind immediately. Strange took a little longer to process the whole idea, but finally he nodded, still looking stunned, but now somewhat amazed.

"I don't see why not," Stephen said.

"So it's not really _Peter_ doing the magic, it's the Mind stone thinking it's helping him out like it did with his Math the other day."

"I suppose."

Stark looked at Peter, who was still pale and upset.

"Has this happened before?"

"No." The cloak told him yes at the same time he said no and he shook his head. "When?"

"It _has_?"

"It says yes. I would have seen it and said something, though."

"Unless it happened while you were _asleep_ ," Strange pointed out. "Maybe we just figured out where your extra homework came from last night."

There was agreement from the cloak.

Peter was overwhelmed and it showed. Stark wasn't surprised. He felt a little overwhelmed, too. But he fought it down, and leaned back in his chair, exhibiting as much calm as he could.

"Mystery solved," he told them.

"What do we do about it?" Strange asked.

"Nothing we _can_ do, is there? The stone isn't going to listen to _us_ if we tell it to stop."

"I can't do magic," Peter told them. "I want to be an Avenger."

"You're not really doing magic," Strange assured him.

"And we've already established that _you're_ going to be an Avenger," Tony reminded him. "This doesn't change that – not at all. The Mind stone isn't trying to screw with you, right? It's trying to help. So if it gets too crazy, you think hard at it that you don't want it using you to do magic, and it will probably stop. Or at least ease up on you."

It stopped sending the terrible dreams, after all.

"If it does get too overwhelming, Wong and I will help you understand the magic and walk you through it."

Their acceptance and confidence was reassuring, even though he wasn't completely convinced. Tony noticed that he almost looked afraid to touch the book that was still sitting on the table.

"Don't worry about it, Peter," he said, reaching over and giving the boy's shoulder a shake. "This could be a _good_ thing."

"How?"

"You could save yourself the cost of pizza delivery charges."

Strange snorted, amused, and even Peter smiled at that.


	186. Chapter 187

They had lunch in the lounge, but they didn't linger once they were done eating. While Peter had been staying at the sanctum, Stark had been thinking about what they might try to change on the GPS project, but for obvious reasons he needed to have Strange there to actually _apply_ it. Giving Peter a chance to wind down from the shock of doing the magic, he was opting for a little normalcy – at least as much normalcy as one could get watching _Ironman_ chat with a _Master of Mystical arts_ about marrying tech and magic together.

As such, they went to the workroom when they were finished eating, and while Stark and Strange worked on their project Peter found a spot on the couch and started reading the book, with the cloak only a slight distraction as it rubbed against him and played with his hair, and the two men discussing their options in the background.

An hour or so later, Strange called Peter's name, drawing him from the story he was reading. The boy looked up, more than willing to be distracted. _Animal Farm_ was boring.

"Go find a spot to hide from us, Peter."

He nodded, understanding what they wanted this time, and set the book aside.

"Inside or out?"

"Out," Tony told him.

"Okay."

The boy left the room and then the building and instead of going to the woods, this time he trotted down toward the river, figuring to mix things up a bit.

" _Did you get lost?"_ Came Stark's voice after he'd been moving about half an hour.

He smiled.

"I'm ready."

" _Okay."_

He waited, wondering how he would know if their experiment was working. A moment later, though, there was a circular light and a portal formed almost right beside him. Close enough that he moved back a couple of steps, automatically. A moment later Strange was walking through the portal and looked pretty pleased with himself when he saw Peter standing nearby.

"Well, that worked."

A moment later he and Peter were both back in the workroom, and Stark beamed.

"It worked?"

"We were right on the money that time."

"Shall we try it a little further out?"

"I believe so."

They looked over at Peter, again, and he wondered how far out into the woods he was going to be running for them _this_ time. Stark surprised him, though, when he reached into his pocket.

"You don't have a driver's license, right?"

"Right."

"Do you know _how_ to drive?"

"Kind of."

Tony threw him his keys, which Peter caught automatically.

"Take whatever car you feel comfortable driving, and do _not_ go onto the highway. Stop Somewhere on the service road and then get yourself set up in the woods and call us."

"Seriously?"

"You're not going to crash it into a tree, right?"

"No."

"No speeding."

"Okay."

"The cloak _stays_ , though," Strange said. "You don't need a distraction like that."

It grumbled in Peter's mind at that, but Strange told it that he'd bring it with him when they went to find the boy and it disconnected from Peter's shoulders and attached itself to the doctor's collar, instead. Peter left the room at a trot, heading for the garage.

"I doubt May would approve of you letting him drive by himself."

Stark shrugged.

"He needs the distraction. Besides, he's far more responsible than I was at his age. He won't do anything dumb."

OOOOOOOO

Peter didn't take too long to decide what he was going to drive. He'd seen the Lamborghini every time he'd gone to the garage and there wasn't a fifteen year old boy that he knew who wouldn't have jumped at the chance to drive it – even if it was only a few miles at the most.

Excited, he got behind the wheel and started it up, hit the garage door opener and put the car into gear. With a roar that was completely unintentional, and a squeal of tires that echoed in the garage, he took off, barely avoiding sideswiping the edge of the door as he left.

He went about a mile and a half – which took no time at all – and stopped the car. Pulling out his phone, he stopped long enough to take a selfie of himself behind the wheel, and then got out and headed into the woods, trotting another fifteen minutes just to make sure it wasn't too easy to find him.

"Ready," he said, finally, activating his watch's communication.

There was a long pause – long enough for him to think that maybe it hadn't worked – but then the portal was there and a moment later Strange and Stark both walked through, looking pleased when they saw him. The Cloak of Levitation threw itself at Peter, as happy to see him as if it had been days and not less than an hour.

"I'd call that a success," Strange said.

Stark nodded, and looked at Peter.

"Where's the car?"

"Over there somewhere."

"Come on."

They walked through the woods the direction Peter had pointed, tripping over brush and bushes, and pushing all kinds of plant life out of the way. The boy listened as they started discussing ways to tweak the project to allow the GPS to work even more efficiently. After thirty minutes, though, Strange scowled, looking around and pushing yet another bush out of his path.

"How far did you _go_ , Peter?"

"About fifteen minutes."

"This direction?" Stark asked.

"I wasn't really paying attention," he admitted.

Both men stared at him, and he shrugged.

"I was driving a _Lamborghini_ ," he told them. "I was a little distracted."

"Great."

"And you want to go _camping_ with him?" Strange said, shaking his head. "I'm going to get eaten. I just _know_ it. It'll probably be a bear, but maybe it'll be a mountain lion, or a _tiger_. Or a whole herd of hyenas."

"I'm pretty sure there aren't any hyenas in New York," Stark pointed out.

"And they go in _packs_ , not herds," Peter added, helpfully.

Strange gave both of them a sour look.

"Shall we go to the compound and start this peregrination over?"

A moment later they were back at the Avengers facility. This time it was simply a matter of getting one of the other cars out and driving down the road to where Peter had left the Lamborghini. Strange let Peter drive him back to the garage, trying to be casual but clutching the dash the entire time – especially when Peter pulled it into the parking area and almost hit the BMW Stark had just parked.

"I'd say driving lessons might be in order sometime soon, Tony," he told Stark when they got out of the car.

"He has to get his permit, first, and I think he's got another four months or so before he can."

Flush with their successful experiment they decided to take a break. They went to the lounge where Peter watched the two play chess against each other. They would have taken turns playing against him, but he was suddenly not feeling well and decided to sit it out and just watch, idly scratching his forearms while the cloak crooned contentedly in his mind.

OOOOOOOO

Pepper found them there a few hours later, after coming back from the city. She walked over to the table, first, greeting Tony with a kiss against the top of his head, and smiling at Strange who was scratching his cheek, absently. Both men looked up at her, but they were in the middle of a fairly equal match, and neither wanted to be distracted. She frowned at the red mark on Tony's neck where _he_ was scratching, but went over to say hello to Peter.

The boy was drowsing on the sofa, the cloak caressing his cheek idly. Pepper frowned when she walked up to him, noticing immediately that he had a nasty looking rash on his arms and his neck.

"Stephen?"

The doctor looked up, and got up when he saw her expression. Tony did, too.

"What is it?" Stark asked walking over, absently scratching his cheek.

"Has Peter been in the woods?"

"Yes" Strange told her. He made a noise when he noticed what she had noticed, and reached for the boy's arm to get a better look at the rash that was clearly showing on both forearms and the side of Peter's neck. "We _all_ were."

"What is _that_?" Tony asked as Peter opened his eyes, somewhat startled to find everyone hovering over him.

"A rash of some kind," Strange answered, his hand brushing the boy's forehead. He was a little warm, but he also had the cloak draped over him and had for most of the day. "Peter? How do you feel?"

Pepper looked at Strange.

"You've never seen _poison Ivy_ before?" she asked, incredulously.


	187. Chapter 188

"You guys are _really_ lucky. You _know_ that, right?"

Pepper had to hide her smile, but she couldn't stop the amusement in her expression as she looked at the three of them, sitting on a couch in the lounge.

"How is _this_ lucky?" Tony asked, holding up both hands – which were now completely covered in bandages.

All three had been told to shower thoroughly and then to change, but hadn't been allowed to touch anything in order to do it. Luckily Strange had accomplished that for them; once they'd scrubbed themselves, all the clothing they had been wearing was replaced by sweats and a t-shirt for Peter, and lounge pants and t-shirts for Stark and the doctor. Then every surface of the lounge had been cleaned, just in case it was someplace that any of them had touched.

That included the cloak of Levitation, which was muttering sullenly in Peter's mind because it was now wet, having been cleaned thoroughly by Wong, who had arrived shortly after Strange had called him and told him what happened. Then he'd left, promising that he'd look for a salve of some sort in the library to see if what might normally last for weeks could be cut into a much shorter time frame.

"You're lucky that _Peter_ is overly sensitive to it and his rash showed so early," Pepper said, brushing the boy's forehead with a gloved hand. He was almost asleep, miserable but so used to not feeling good by now that it wasn't keeping him from drowsing where he was sitting between Stark and Strange.

"Why?" Stephen asked, trying very hard to not sound annoyed by the statement since it certainly wasn't Pepper's fault that he _itched_. A lot. He, too, was miserable.

They all had bandages on their hands, both to keep them from scratching, and to keep from contaminating anyone else. All three also sported bandages around their necks – again designed to stop the rash from being irritated – and Peter's forearms were bandaged up beyond his elbows, since he'd been wearing a t-shirt and the others had had long sleeves which had afforded them a bit more protection. Their faces also showed signs of the rash, but they were simply smeared with Calamine lotion to try and assuage the itching. Otherwise they'd all look like mummies.

"My dad got it once and didn't know that _he_ had it until well after he'd used the bathroom. I probably don't need to describe how uncomfortable he was when the rash started to appear…"

Stark frowned at that thought.

"Ouch."

Strange closed his eyes and leaned back against the sofa, letting his head fall.

"I'm not _feeling_ very lucky at the moment," he told her.

"Poor baby…"

He opened his eyes at that voice, and found Natasha leaning over him from behind the couch, her expression a mixture of concern and amusement. She very carefully pressed a gentle kiss against his forehead – one of the few surfaces that didn't show any indication of a rash – and wanted to do the same with Peter, who roused enough to open his eyes as well, giving her a ghost of a smile but unable to rally enough to do much more than that. Strange had touched the boy's forehead, though, and Natasha was forced to kiss the top of his head, instead. Even _Stark_ got a kiss, he looked that wretched.

Pepper smiled as Natasha moved to the front of the couch and sat in a chair so she could see them.

"How did you not recognize poison ivy?" she asked, having just woken up and heard the story, which was, of course, spreading through the facility like wildfire.

"I'm a _brain surgeon_ ," Strange reminded her. "Not a park ranger."

"I know what it looks like," Pepper pointed out.

"So do I," Natasha said.

"Someone needs to decontaminate the Lamborghini and the BMW," Tony mentioned, before he forgot.

"Why both?" Natasha asked.

"Because I was driving the BMW, and Peter drove the Lamborghini."

"Why was he driving?" Pepper asked, frowning. "Does he even have a license?"

"He's _fifteen_ ," Stark said. "Of course he doesn't have a license. It was necessary at the time."

"Which car were _you_ in?" Romanoff asked Strange.

"The same one that Peter was."

They didn't even bother to ask why Peter was driving and Strange wasn't.

Natasha looked at Peter, who was leaning at a precarious angle against Stark as he was falling asleep. The bandages made him look pale, and his expression, even with his eyes closed, was pinched and wan. A far cry from the cheerful guy she'd seen just that morning.

"Should we be concerned?" she asked, softly.

"Poison ivy isn't as exotic as raw nutmeg," Stephen assured them, reaching out to brush his bandaged hand against the boy's forehead and realizing that it was an ineffective way to check for a fever at the moment. "The blisters and rash are just an allergic reaction – and he _does_ seem more susceptible to them – luckily for Tony and myself, apparently. We'll watch him, but Wong is looking for a solution."

"A poultice?" Natasha asked.

"Or a salve. Honestly, at this point he could just cut my hands off and I'd feel better."

"What were you guys doing in the woods in the first place?" she asked, curiously. "Practicing for your camping trip?"

He gave her a look that made Pepper and Romanoff both smile.

"We were testing our GPS portal spell," Tony told them, catching Peter as he finally fell asleep, and lowering him to a more comfortable position with his head on Stark's leg. Strange reached down and brought the boy's legs up to drape over his lap, allowing him to stretch out more comfortably.

Natasha looked at the cloak, which was hanging over the back of the sofa, wondering why it wasn't all over the boy, and realized it was wet. Before she could get up and go scrounge a regular blanket instead, Strange had produced one and was covering Peter with it.

"Did it work, at least?"

"Perfectly," Stark said, unable to hide just how impressed he was with them.

"Well, that's something."

"You should stay here, Stephen," Pepper told the doctor. "That way we can keep an eye on you – while we're watching Tony and Peter."

"I'm fine," Strange assured her, appreciating the concern but not wanting to be a bother – or to be under observation, really. "If I go back to the sanctum I can help Wong look for something to cut this rash."

"Do you think he really needs help?" Natasha asked. "He looks pretty capable."

"He doesn't need _any_ help," Tony said. "Don't argue. It won't do you any good."

Which was probably true, he supposed. He knew that Natasha would say he should stay, and he would eventually agree.

"Fine."

"We can put you guys in one of the VIP suites," Pepper decided, referring to the rooms for multiple people who were not interested in their own rooms but also not sharing a bed with the person they were staying with. Like a hotel room for double occupancy, they had two queen sized beds in the room sharing a night stand in between. "We'll put Peter in the living room on the couch – or bring in a bed, instead. What do you think, Tony?"

What he _thought_ was that he would prefer his own bed, and not a shared room, but he knew that Pepper would want to keep an eye on everyone, and it wouldn't be fair to her to have everyone in their own rooms, where she'd be obliged to be all over the compound to check on them. He nodded.

"Good idea." He looked down at the boy sleeping on him, and brushed his hair back as carefully as he could with his bandaged hand, an action that made Pepper and Natasha both smile. "Do we have a hide a bed couch? I'd rather he was actually in a _bed_ , but not a medical one – they're not very comfortable."

"I'll have someone put one in," Pepper told him. She looked at Romanoff. "Watch these guys?"

Natasha smiled.

"They're not really in any condition to get into mischief at the moment, but I'll keep them company."


	188. Chapter 189

"We probably should have taken in certain considerations when we were deciding what to have for dinner…" Natasha said, trying very hard to hide her amusement and failing.

Tony scowled.

"You _think_?"

They'd stayed in the lounge to eat dinner because it was convenient and easier. They'd allowed Peter to sleep as long as they could, only waking him when their meal was actually on the table and ready, and the boy looked a little better for having had a nap.

It didn't take long, however, for all three of them to discover that eating with bandaged hands was difficult. Especially trying to eat something that was already messy, like _spaghetti_.

Peter had the worst of it; the cloak was dry, now, and although it was told not to touch any exposed skin – or it would have to be cleaned again – it had itself wrapped around his shoulders. It was amusing itself – and attempting to distract him from how itchy he was – by playing with his hair and occasionally his shoulders, causing the boy to drop his fork several times. This, of course, caused him to drop whatever was on the fork, which in most cases was sauce and noodles. The result was that he had spaghetti and sauce not only all over himself, but the floor, the table and once even on Natasha.

He finally just gave up and stopped trying, nibbling on a breadstick instead. It wasn't going to fill him up, but it was nowhere near as messy.

Tony and Stephen might have found the boy's plight amusing, but they were having the same problem – only without the cloak. Neither had experience eating with what amounted to wearing oven mitts on each hand and there was sauce and noodles everywhere. The table and floor were spattered, their faces were smeared and their clothing almost certainly ruined.

Amusing for the women sitting with them and watching the whole process, but not so great for the guys.

"It's a learning experience," Pepper said as Stephen finally gave up on eating _his_ dinner as well. "For _all_ of us."

The doctor sighed and waved his hand. Three plates of spaghetti and meatballs vanished, replaced by a platter of sandwich making ingredients. Several kinds of meats, sliced cheeses and bread, with all the appropriate condiments. There were also a few different sides; including chips and carrot sticks and celery, which could be handled more easily.

"When you're done eating, you're all going to bed," Natasha told them, watching as all three started building sandwiches. Of course, they'd need to _change_ , too, but they could take care of that in the VIP room.

Predictably, Stark and Strange both scowled at the thought of being sent to bed. Which had been the whole point of having _Natasha_ make the announcement. She was well aware that Peter wouldn't argue with her about almost anything, and fairly certain that _Stephen_ wouldn't, either. With two of the three already willing to go, Stark wouldn't have much wiggle room, and if he _did_ protest, Pepper was right there to back Romanoff up.

Both women waited for the rebellion and were pleasantly surprised when none was forthcoming. Instead they finished eating their dinner, plain though it was, and did what they were told. Neither man would admit it, but they _were_ pretty miserable, and a chance to relax in a place where they might fall asleep and escape from the incessant itching wasn't a bad idea, really.

OOOOOOOO

The suite was a lot like Peter's quarters. A living room, a much larger bedroom and a bathroom with a Jacuzzi tub and shower. The bedroom had two queen beds, a small table between them, and a dresser. There was a flat screen TV on the wall in the bedroom and another in the living room, and Pepper had had Peter's video game system brought in and hooked up to the living room TV.

The sofa in the living room held a pull out bed, and at the moment it was pulled out and freshly made up, with a lot of pillows and the large plush teddy bear that May had brought up sitting in the middle of it. Stacked on the coffee table nearby was some homework, the _Animal Farm_ book and a large collection of board games, a deck of cards and a stack of clean clothes.

Peter sat down on the arm of his couch while Tony and Stephen went into the bedroom and immediately drew straws to decide who got which bed. He didn't think that either sounded like they really _cared_ , but it was just something they could argue about.

Natasha walked over to him, and knelt down in front of him, looking worried.

"It won't be long."

He smiled, shaking his head.

"I'm _fine_ , Natasha."

The cloak reached out and caressed her cheek since it wasn't allowed to touch _Peter's_ , yet.

"You're _sure_?"

"Yeah. I like them both and they're good company."

"You know how to reach me if you need anything."

He rolled his eyes, amused, and pretended to talk into his watch.

" _Natasha, I need a glass of water. Natasha, will you come tell me a story? Natasha, I'm bored. Natasha, Mr. Stark is picking on me. Natasha, I need a hug…"_

She smiled, and hugged him, careful not to touch her cheek to his – although she _wanted_ to.

"Yes, for _any_ of those."

He hugged her back; he really _had_ missed her.

"I won't call you for any of those, but thanks."

She poked him in the chest with her finger, giving him her most serious expression – although her eyes gave away her amusement.

"I'll be annoyed with you if you don't."

"Okay."

"You can see what we brought you from Belarus tomorrow, okay?"

"Sounds good."

"And don't worry about your _homework_ , okay?"

"Okay."

"I'm going to go talk to the guys. _You_ should go change into clean clothes before they start hogging the bathroom."

He nodded, watched her walk into the bedroom and then grabbed some sweats and a t-shirt from the stack of clothes and went into the bathroom.

OOOOOOOOO

When Natasha joined Pepper, Stark and Stephen in the bedroom the men were both wearing clean lounge clothes, almost certainly courtesy of the doctor. Strange had the bed closest to the door, sitting on the edge of it, and Tony was sitting on the other one. Pepper was standing between them.

All of them looked over at her when she entered the room.

"How's Peter?" Tony asked.

"He seems fine, all things considered."

"Will we need to worry about anything like that nutmeg thing from this?" Pepper asked Strange.

"No. Not with poison ivy – not even with Peter. I've already double-checked. This time it's just the misery of itching and a rash."

"So keep him as distracted as you can," Romanoff told them. "And don't let him obsess with his _homework_."

"We'll find something to do," Stark promised.

"You're having a _slumber party_ ," Pepper said, smiling. "I suppose you could eat snacks and watch scary movies…"

"And talk about _girls_ …" Natasha added.

"And have a pillow fight…"

"Or you can do each other's hair…"

Both men rolled their eyes.


	189. Chapter 190

Stark scowled and tossed his tablet to the side, still on the bed where he could use it later – if he could figure out a better way to manage the touch screen with bandaged hands. Even the stylus didn't make things much better. He looked over at Strange, who was reading a book he had summoned.

"We haven't checked on Peter in a while."

Strange glanced at his watch and went back to his book.

"We checked on him ten minutes ago."

"He probably needs a distraction."

The doctor didn't look up from his book.

"He's _reading_ Tony. That _is_ the distraction."

When the girls had left, Peter had told them that he was going to work on his homework. When Strange and Stark had both offered to help him, he shook his head and reached for the book that he was supposed to finish, and told them he was just going to do the _reading_ part, for now, and said he'd work on the other subjects later. He didn't mention that he assumed that he would get more done that way - and that it was too late to be calling his teachers to clarify any homework questions.

"He could probably use a break," Stark pointed out. "Maybe a snack, or something to keep him occupied."

Strange sighed and set his book aside. It obviously wasn't _Peter_ who was bored and needed a diversion, and it was clear to Stephen that he wasn't going to be able to read any more of the book he was reading until they found something for Tony to do.

"Let's go check on him, then."

They got up and went out into the living room. Peter was exactly where they had left him ten minutes before. He was sitting in the middle of the pull out bed, wearing sweats and a t-shirt with the cloak wrapped around his shoulders. Reading.

"What are you up to?" Tony asked, coming around to the other side and setting himself beside the boy.

Peter held up the book.

"Reading."

"Is it good?"

"No. It's blatantly preachy, and boring."

Strange smiled at that analysis. It was exactly what _he'd_ thought of the book when he'd read it. A quote that said something about how you measure the intelligence of a man by how well he agrees with you popped into his mind.

"Need a break?" Stark asked.

"I want to get through this."

"Hungry?"

"Not really."

"You're not supposed to be stressing your homework, Peter…"

The boy looked over at Strange, perhaps hoping for a little help, but the doctor only smiled. _He_ had already been interrupted from his reading by bored Tony Stark. It was Peter's turn. With an almost concealed sigh, he put _Animal Farm_ on the coffee table.

"Fine. I guess I could use a snack, and a break."

"Stephen?"

"Yes?"

Stark waved his bandaged hands, expectantly.

"A _snack_?"

Strange rolled his eyes.

"We could go to the lounge…"

"And if Romanoff or Pepper are there? And catch us out and about?"

"Are we confined to this room?"

"They made it pretty clear they wanted us here tonight."

"Fine. What do you want for a snack?"

"Peter?"

The boy shrugged. _He_ wasn't the one who wanted a snack in the first place.

"Nothing messy."

"That's a given."

Of course, they weren't eating in _his_ bed, so it wasn't really the concern for Strange that it might have been for Peter.

"I'd have cake, if you're willing," Peter told him.

"Me, too," Tony agreed.

"Cake, it is."

A moment later there was half a chocolate cake and half a white cake sitting on a tray on the coffee table. With it were forks, small plates and a knife. Peter cut himself a piece of the white, and a piece of the chocolate which he handed to Stark, who almost dropped the thing, but managed to save the boy's sheets from a frosting mess. Strange opted for a piece of white cake and for about six minutes, Tony was distracted.

"What do you guys want to do?" he asked, putting the empty plate aside.

"Pepper brought in my PS4," Peter said, pointing to the system. "Do you guys even _know_ how to play video games?"

Strange wasn't the only one to scowl at that.

"We're not _that_ old, young man."

"So play _Street Fighter_ , and see who is better at it."

"Play what?"

"It's a fighting game," Peter explained, getting up and handing each of them one of the wireless controllers, and turning on the TV and the console. "You each pick a fighter and then you go at each other until one loses best of three."

"What about you?" Tony asked. "Is it a three person game?"

"No. I'll watch. When you guys decide who is better, I'll play winner."

"Then you'll be playing _me_ ," Strange told him, settling himself a little more comfortably on the bed after moving his plate to the coffee table as well.

"Yeah, in the loser's bracket," Stark said. "Get it going, Peter."

The boy hid his smile, and set the game up, giving both of them a quick lesson on how to move the characters, how to make them jump, punch and kick and telling them that each had a special attack, but that they would have to figure that part out for themselves.

Then he picked up his book again and took his spot back between them.

"What are you doing?" Stephen asked, looking over only for a moment before he selected his character. A burly looking guy who looked like he could probably punch his way out of a bank vault.

"I'll read a little while you guys fight it out," Peter said.

"Don't get too comfortable," Stark told him. "This won't take long."

Peter nodded, and opened his book. He was certain it would take a lot longer than either of them expected. He already knew neither would be good at the game, but he also knew after playing chess with both of them, they weren't going to quit with the first game – no matter who won. He could finish his book, now.

OOOOOOOOO

Wong appeared in the Avenger's compound early the next morning. Friday – having been advised that Tony was officially off the grid – had let Pepper know, and she and Romanoff had met him in the lounge, which was the place he knew best in the facility.

He was holding a small pot in his hand and greeted them both.

"Did you find something?" Pepper asked, looking at the pot curiously.

"It should help."

"Good. They looked pretty miserable last night," Natasha said, leading the way out of the lounge and toward the VIP room.

While they walked, she and Pepper chatted with Wong, since neither of them knew him very well, yet and they always liked to know the people their guys were spending time with. He was just finishing a very brief outline of his childhood when they reached the suite and Pepper opened the door quietly, just in case Peter was asleep.

All three stopped at the door.

The TV was on, showing the blue screen that meant someone had left something playing and it had gotten tired of waiting for an activity and had went into power saving mode. Tony and Stephen were both asleep, one on either side of Peter, each man holding a controller in one hand. Strange had rolled onto his side and had his face pressed against Peter's shoulder, while Tony had the hand that wasn't holding the controller draped over the boy's stomach, cuddled against him like Peter had cuddled with him so many times.

Peter was also asleep, his cheek against the top of Strange's head and his arm around Tony's shoulder, again such a perfect mimicry of the way Tony frequently held him that Pepper felt warm and squishy inside and had to reach for her phone and take a picture – even if she never showed it to them. Which she probably would. Besides, she knew Natasha would want a copy. The Cloak of Levitation was draped over all three of them, obviously doing its best to keep them all warm.

Wong frowned, looking at the two women.

"You only have one bed?"


	190. Chapter 191

"So what's _in_ this stuff?" Tony asked, stripping off his shirt.

He was the last of the three to do so. All of them were sitting on the coffee table, shirts off, bandages removed and showing all their rash covered glory, lined up to have Wong administer the salve he was holding.

" _Magic_ ," he answered, trying to look his most mysterious.

Strange rolled his eyes and Peter grinned. They knew him better than the others, and could tell he wasn't being serious.

"It's herbal?" Stephen asked.

"Yeah. Found it in the same book as the poultice I used on Peter's bruises."

"Any side effects?"

"Tingling, most likely. Lethargy, _maybe_. We'll definitely want to bandage the treated areas to avoid cross contamination."

Which meant more time with their hands covered and practically unusable. But Wong had told him that it should cut the healing time by as much as half – if not more.

"I'm okay with that," Peter told him, offering Wong his right arm.

Of course, he was the one with the most exposure and probably was the most miserable. Besides, he also had seen and felt how well the _poultice_ had worked.

Wong put on a pair of gloves and liberally smeared the boy's arms and hands with the salve – which smelled like some kind of mint. He also spread it on Peter's forehead, neck and cheek where there were obvious signs of the rash. Natasha played nurse and was the one who bandaged the boy's arms, hands and neck – although she left the face free when Wong told her she could.

Then they repeated the process with Stephen and Tony, and they all looked like survivors from some odd combat by the time she and Wong were finished.

"Twice a day until the rash clear up," Wong told them. He looked at Strange. "Can you handle it tonight or do you want me to come back?"

"I'll take care of it," the doctor said, already feeling the slight tingle that Wong had warned them about. "Thank you."

"Yeah, thanks," Peter said, trying very hard to ignore the itchiness _and_ the tingling. He reached for his shirt and Natasha helped him put it back on when he got an arm hung up in the sleeve. Then she did the same for Strange, while Pepper helped Tony dress himself.

"You're welcome."

Never one for small talk, Wong left the pot of salve on the table and vanished with the aid of a portal that showed the foyer of the sanctum before it closed behind him.

"So," Pepper said. "No water therapy for Peter, obviously, and nothing too active for you guys, either."

Both men scowled at that, which made Natasha smile.

"We'll find something to entertain you, I'm sure."

"Let's start with _breakfast_ ," Pepper said. "Any requests?"

"Nothing with _syrup_ ," Strange told them.

OOOOOO

"Nat!"

Romanoff turned at the sound of her name being called, and she and Pepper stopped in the corridor to give Steve and Clint a chance to catch up with them. Both men were dressed in flight suits.

"How's it going?" Steve asked when they were close enough for conversation. "Is it _really_ poison ivy?"

Pepper nodded.

"You've never heard such whining, complaining and griping…"

Steve frowned.

"You'd think Peter would be used to the misery by now."

" _Peter's_ not the problem," Natasha told them. "Are you guys heading out?"

"Yeah." Rogers looked at both women. "Is he really _bad_? We thought we'd invite him to come along."

"A whole day stuck in bed with no one for company but Stark and the doc…?" Barton said. "He can't suffer more for taking a quick flight, could he?"

"I _doubt_ you could get his doctor to agree," Pepper replied. "Maybe next time."

"We could _try_ ," Steve told them. "It can't hurt."

"True."

The guys joined the trek to the suite that they'd interrupted, and Romanoff tapped on the door before opening it, although she was quiet, just in case Peter was asleep. When she opened the door, though, she saw he was not only awake, but sitting in the bed playing a video game, with the cloak draped on the back of the couch playing with his hair since it wasn't allowed to cuddle his bare skin.

"Peter!"

Barton ran and dove onto the boy's bed, barely missing him, but grabbing him around the waist and rolling him over and pinning him under his weight. The controller went flying – it was hard to hold with bandaged hands, anyway – and Peter laughed as Clint ruffled his hair and then started tickling him.

The cloak, which had moved itself out of the way at the start of the attack, wrapped itself around Clint's shoulders and head, blinding Hawkeye to allow Peter a chance to escape. Peter felt only good natured cheerfulness from the relic, so he knew it understood that Clint wasn't _really_ trying to hurt him and was actually joining in the play. He wondered idly if it had ever had the chance to do something like that before.

The boy started to manage to wriggle out from under Clint, just as Steve joined the fray and added his weight to Barton's and started pulling the cloak away from the other man's head. Both men were being careful to avoid irritating Peter's arms and the exposed skin, but they were more than willing to dig fingers into his sides and stomach to try and tickle him and thump their fingers against his chest to be as annoying as possible.

Sometimes when you're sick, it's that kind of treatment you need from your friends, after all, and even with the cloak assisting, Peter finally had to call uncle under the assault or risk peeing his pants.

"How do you feel?" Steve asked, smiling, as he rolled off Peter, and looking up to see that Stark and Strange had both come from the bedroom to see what was going on and were standing at the door watching the wrestling match.

"Okay," Peter told him, pressing Clint off of him in a careless display of strength, now that Steve was no longer pinning his arms. The cloak released its hold as well, freeing Barton's head and shoulders and flying over to Strange, watching the crazy people on the sofa bed.

"What's up guys?" Stark asked, uncertain if he approved of the rough treatment, even though Peter didn't seem to have taken any harm, and looked like he'd had a good time.

"We're heading to Atlanta to drop Bruce and Doctor Blake off at that conference and thought we'd see if Peter wanted come," Steve replied.

Peter rolled over, looking first at Steve with excitement and then at the two men standing at the bedroom doorway, his expression hopeful.

Tony frowned.

"Peter's _sick_."

The boy looked crushed, but Steve wasn't ready to give up, yet.

"He's not going to _fly_ the _plane_ , Tony," Rogers pointed out. "He's just going to be sitting in it. _Quietly_. Right, Peter?"

"Yeah."

Now he looked hopeful, again, and Stark had to turn from those excited puppy eyes before he agreed to anything just to make him happy.

"Stephen?"

Strange was frowning as well, but he was beginning to find that _he_ was no more immune to the boy than Tony was. He hesitated, but honestly couldn't think of a reason to say no. With the bandages on his rashes he wasn't a threat to spread his poison ivy around, and the horseplay had proven that he wasn't feeling any ill-effects from Wong's salve.

"When will you be back?"

"This evening."

"You'll feed him lunch?"

"Of course."

"I suppose it wouldn't hurt…"

The boy beamed, now, with excitement, and none of them could help but smile.

"Go change into your flight suit, Peter," Steve told him.

"We're leaving in 15 minutes. Meet us at the jet," Clint added.

The boy left before anyone could change their minds, and Tony scowled at Rogers.

"That wasn't fair."

Steve shrugged, not at all repentant.

"Probably not, but he's good company and deserves a chance to have some fun after the rough time he's had."

"Not to mention you guys exposing him to _poison ivy_ ," Natasha added.

"For the record, _he's_ the one who got us lost in the woods," Strange pointed out, unable to help but defend themselves.

"Why was he _there_ , again?" Pepper asked, arching an eyebrow. "I forget… was it because you guys were working on a project…?"

Stark shook his head. He didn't know why they bothered.

"Remind him to bring me a shot glass for my collection."


	191. Chapter 192

Natasha left with Steve and Clint, telling Pepper she'd be back, she just wanted to see them off, and Pepper turned to the two men who were still standing in the doorway. Both were still looking as if they wanted to change their minds and call Peter back to his bed, and she ushered them back into the bedroom before either could really consider it.

"He'll be _fine_ ," she reminded them, giving Strange a gentle push toward his bed, and wrapping her arm around Tony's waist to put him back in his. "And Natasha and I cleared our morning to spend time with you, so it will work out well."

"How so?" Strange asked, sitting on the edge of his bed, with the cloak hanging over his shoulder.

"We can play _cards_ ," Pepper told him. "Peter isn't good at any card game we've thrown at him, other than Spoons – which I do _not_ want to play – so he wouldn't have had a good time unless we did something else. This way _he_ gets to have fun, and so do you, and no one gets left out."

"Cards with _oven mitts_?" Tony asked, dubiously, holding up his bandaged hands.

She smiled down at him and brushed her fingers lovingly through his hair.

"You're both fairly intelligent men. You'll figure out a way."

She cleared the table that was between the two beds and Stark helped her pull it out from the wall. Stephen produced a couple of comfortable chairs for the two not on the beds, and a deck of regular cards and another for Pinochle to allow variety. He also summoned a pot of coffee and mugs for everyone – including the one Peter had brought him from Seattle for his own personal use.

Which made Stark smile, and wish that _he_ had a mug from Peter, too.

Pepper sat in one of the chairs, which was more comfortable that sitting on the bed, really, and poured their coffee for them.

"When Natasha gets back, we'll decide what game you guys will lose at, first."

They didn't reply to that, but both did start handling the cards, just to get a little practice at doing so with the bandages.

OOOOOOOOO

Natasha walked between Clint and Steve out to the Quinjet, but Peter wasn't there, yet. Not surprisingly, since he was going to be trying to change into his flight suit with bandages hampering all zippers and fasteners that normally would be a breeze. Bruce and Dr. Blake, a very pretty – and extremely intelligent research scientist – were both waiting, with bags at their feet.

"You guys will keep an eye on him, right?" she asked as Steve opened the ramp of the jet and told Banner and Blake to go ahead and get settled on a jump seat.

Clint nodded.

"You know we will."

"Don't let him try to eat anything too messy, so he doesn't spill – and doesn't feel awkward or clumsy."

"He'll be fine, Nat," Steve told her, amused and not bothering to hide it.

"It's just that he's had it so tough," she pointed out. "I want him to have fun, not come back covered in _Gumbo_ or something and wishing that he hadn't gone."

"We'll take _good_ care of him, momma," Clint said with a grin, looking over her shoulder and noticing that Peter was heading their way at an easy run, dressed and looking far more chipper than the bandages on his hands and neck would make one believe he should. "Say your goodbyes while Steve and I preflight the jet. Then tell him to come to the jump seat."

She nodded and let the momma comment slide, turning to Peter, who stopped in front of her.

"You're ready?" she asked, unnecessarily, brushing her fingers through his hair to lay it flat.

He grinned.

"Yeah."

"First flight without me," she pointed out. "You better take care of Clint and Steve for me, huh?"

"I will."

He hugged her, careful to rest his cheek against her clothing and not bare skin.

"Clint wants you in the jump seat, and Tony told me to remind you to get him a shot glass for his collection," she told him, holding him close for just a moment, then pressing a kiss against the top of his hair before letting him go. "And have _fun_."

"I will."

He turned and jogged up the ramp, stopping to say hello to Bruce, who introduced him to the woman he was sitting next to.

"What kind of conference are you going to?" Peter asked, curiously.

"Chromosomal research using Gamma energy to restructure the healing capabilities of cells at a molecular level," Banner said, smiling when Peter gave him a somewhat blank look. "It's a lot of nerds gathered together to talk during the day and play D&D all night."

Peter grinned; _that_ he could understand. He excused himself and headed for the cockpit, and Blake looked over at Banner.

"He's a little _young_ to be an Avenger, isn't he?"

She hadn't missed the flight suit, after all. She didn't get issued one, and Bruce didn't have one, either.

Banner smiled, watching as Steve handed Peter the preflight checklist.

"He's an old soul."

OOOOOOOOO

"Steve's going to fly us out," Clint told Peter from the copilot seat. " _I'll_ fly us home, since once we lose our passengers we can do some acrobatics if you're interested?"

"Yeah, definitely."

"Clint's better for that," Steve admitted. "I can fly pretty well, but you already know how good _he_ is."

Peter buckled himself into his harness and helped Steve finish the preflight check, while Barton went into the back and made sure the two passengers were buckled in and their bags were stowed. When he returned, he buckled in and looked over his shoulder as the jet took off.

"Normal flight time is a bit under two hours. We're not in any big hurry, so we'll probably use all of it. We'll be landing at a private airfield, and we'll escort Bruce and Marissa to their hotel, to make sure they're settled. We'll grab some lunch, give you a chance to find appropriate souvenirs and look around a little, and then we'll come home and have some aerial fun in our own private airspace to avoid any issues with commercial flights. No fuss and no muss."

"Sounds great."

Peter would have been happy with any of it; as usual, he was just along for the ride and the company.

OOOOOOOO

The airfield was nothing like Boeing field in Seattle had been, but it was a lot closer to the heart of Atlanta than Boeing had been to Seattle, and the ride from the jet to the hotel wasn't very long. Steve, Peter and Clint hadn't changed out of their flight suits since they weren't going to be playing the tourist scene like they had in Seattle, and Peter had to admit that the looks they got while walking into the hotel were flattering and exciting.

Of course, most everyone was looking at _Steve_. In street clothes in Seattle, very few people had actually recognized him, and no one had stopped him. In his flight suit, which was a bit different from the ones Peter and Clint wore, he was famous and a hero, and garnered second glances from almost everyone as they passed by. Some people even stopped him to offer him a handshake, or ask for a picture. Steve was gracious about the whole thing, more than used to it and willing to spend a moment with someone who asked for it.

"It'll get better when we eat," Clint told him as they watched Steve pick up a little girl who came running at him with her mother close behind trying to corral her before she could get in the way. Rogers kissed the toddler noisily, making her giggle, and then handed her back to her mother. "The hotel has a fair amount of security, so it'll only be the conference goers who will be thronging once we get beyond the lobby."

"This happens a lot?" Peter asked.

"Pretty much. Can't be _Captain America_ if you aren't willing to greet America when you walk out the door, right?"

"Good point."

They escorted the doctors to their check in table and went to the hotel restaurant for lunch. The place was fancy, but luckily they had plenty of items on the menu that Peter could eat with his bandaged hands. They did get interrupted a few times so people could talk to Steve, but Peter didn't mind; it was fascinating to him how easily Steve related to the people who came up to him. He watched carefully, figuring that even though Spiderman was an anonymous role, he could still pick up some public relations skills.

A quick stop at the hotel's gift shop gave Peter the chance to pick up a few presents before they headed back to the airfield, and when Barton asked if he'd had fun, he nodded enthusiastically, making both men smile, and glad that they'd thought to invite him.

"Take the copilot seat for the trip back," Steve told him, a hand on his shoulder as they walked up the ramp. "You'll get a better view that way."

"Thanks, Steve," Peter said, sincerely. "I had a good time."

"You're _welcome_ ," Rogers told him, slapping his shoulder. "Make sure you tell _Natasha_ that we got you drunk and took you to a strip club, okay?"

"Sure."


	192. Chapter 193

Natasha was waiting for the jet when it landed. Not surprisingly. She looked Peter over carefully as he came down the ramp, but he looked fine and happy and there was nothing lacking in the hug that he gave her when he reached her.

"Did you have a good time?" she asked, squeezing him tight, silently letting him know that she'd missed him.

"Yeah. It was fun."

She let him go, but kept an arm around him while watching Clint and Steve finish the post flight shutdown.

Peter had a bag in his hand that bore the logo of the hotel that Bruce's conference was being held at, so she assumed that it held his souvenirs, and she remembered that he still hadn't received the ones that they'd brought him back from Belarus. Since he had to change, anyway, she figured it would be a good time for that, before he went back to his bed.

"Did you _miss_ me?" she asked. "Or did the guys keep you too occupied to even realize I wasn't there?"

"The strippers kept me company," Peter told her, offhand, carefully schooling his features so she would have to think about that – at least for a moment. "And the alcohol kept me _warm_."

Natasha snorted, indelicately, her smile broad.

"Which one told you to say that?"

Peter was glad he'd made her grin, and he put his arm around her, too, genuinely enjoying being with her.

"Steve."

"Figures. It's always the wholesome, all American kids that turn out to be the troublemakers."

Steve and Clint finally finished what they were doing, and they all walked back toward Peter's rooms.

"How'd it go _here_ today?" Clint asked. "Anything interesting?"

"Apparently Stark doesn't do well with the stuff that Wong put on his rashes. He made it almost to lunch and fell asleep and hasn't been heard from since."

"Is he alright?" Peter asked, concerned.

"He's _fine_ ," Natasha assured him. "Remember, Wong said it could cause lethargy. Apparently it _did_. Stephen checked him, just to make sure. He's just sleepy. _He's_ not _much_ better, though. Looks ready to fall asleep any minute. Any of that for you?"

"No. I feel okay."

"Good. It's going to be a quiet night for _you_ , I imagine, if they don't feel up to doing anything."

"I can work on my homework."

They stopped at his door.

"Go change into something less restrictive," Natasha told him. "I'm going to go get your Belarus present."

"Good idea," Steve said. "I'll be right back, too."

They left him at his door and he went into his quarters, leaving the door open so they wouldn't think they had to knock, went into his bedroom to change from the flight suit into sweats and a long sleeved t-shirt. By the time he finished and went out into the living room, all three were back, sitting on his coffee table – holding presents for him.

Clint's gift was a carved wooden elk – or maybe a reindeer, considering the source. It had an amazing rack of antlers and peter was surprised it had even made it back home without one of the tips breaking, at least. Steve gave him a clock to hang on his wall that was also made of carved wood.

"I thought about a cuckoo clock," he told Peter. "But Nat said she'd kill me if she had to hear a cuckoo every hour through the wall, so it's just a clock."

"They're great, thanks."

He was really pleased, since both things would help make his quarters look more lived in and less utilitarian.

"Here," Natasha said, handing him the large, heavy bag she was holding.

He took it and pulled out a large, softly woven blanket that was a light gray with various different colored threads weaving through it. It was big and heavy and looked incredibly warm.

"They specialize in sheep that grow the most amazing wool," Natasha told him, taking it from him and draping it over the back of his couch. "I figured on days that your cloak buddy can't keep you warm, this can."

"Thanks." He shook his head. "I feel like it's my birthday, but I didn't really do anything to deserve getting presents."

"It's not a matter of _deserving_ them, Pete," Steve told him. "It's what friends do. They buy souvenirs for their friends when they go someplace."

Peter grinned, and reached behind the arm of his couch and held up his own bag from the hotel. He reached into it and handed Steve a small package that claimed to hold the best the south could offer when it came to cheeses and meats and crackers. Before Steve could comment, Peter tossed Clint a pack that was similar, and then he carefully handed Natasha a wind chime made of crystal butterflies and some kind of shiny metal. It looked more delicate than it was, and the butterflies that floated on each tier were vivid and bright in comparison to the metal.

She smiled and kissed his ear, figuring it was the only safe place on his face to do so.

"It's lovely. Thank you."

"Steve helped me pick it out," he admitted.

"You mean in between the strippers and the alcohol?" she asked, looking over at Rogers.

Steve and Clint both gave her equally innocent looks.

"Whaaaaat?"

OOOOOOOO

It was the cloak that let Strange know when Peter was back. The doctor was in his bed, propped up by a mountain of pillows, reading a book and trying to ignore the cloak's willingness to assist his reading by turning the pages. Usually before he was done reading it. When the relic suddenly shot into the air and over to the door, Strange looked up from the book, and smiled when he saw Peter standing there, the cloak already wrapped around his shoulders, playing with his hair.

"Welcome back," Strange said, sitting a little more upright and setting the book on the table next to the bed.

"How do you feel?" Peter asked, sitting on the edge of the bed, a bag in his hand but his attention completely on Strange and Stark – who was asleep in the other bed.

"A bit sleepy, but otherwise fine. The salve seems to be handling the inflammation and itching remarkably well. How about you?"

"Yeah, no, I'm okay. I hardly itch at all."

"Any weariness? Lethargy?"

"No. Not really."

"How was Atlanta?"

"Not as exciting as New York," he admitted. "But I think I'm probably biased. Is Mr. Stark okay?"

"Yes. He's fine. Don't worry, I'm keeping an eye on him."

Peter reached into his bag and pulled out an oddly shaped piece of pottery that almost looked like it could be a vase, but was a short and fat for one. It was clearly made of red clay, with simplified geometric designs inlaid and there was a little rake and a fair sized bag of white sand and a smaller bag that when Strange looked he saw that it held a few rocks.

"It's a rock garden," Peter explained. "I got one for _Wong_ , too. It's supposed to be relaxing."

"That's thoughtful of you, Peter. Thank you."

"I figured you could probably use it if you keep hanging out with these guys. _Especially_ when you see what Steve and Clint brought back for you."

"Do I even want to know?"

The boy smiled.

"I wouldn't want to spoil the surprise, but I _will_ say that Seattle isn't the only place to find an ugly t-shirt."

Strange rolled his eyes and Peter laughed.

"Did you eat, yet?"

"I had lunch in Atlanta."

"No dinner?"

"I'm not really hungry, yet. It was a big meal."

"How much of it did you _wear_?"

"They were careful to only offer finger foods," Peter told him. "I think they didn't want to clean up the mess."


	193. Chapter 194

Not too long after Peter's return from the flight, Strange decided that they should all eat something. Which made complete sense, of course. Pepper had arrived to check on them and was sitting on Tony's bed, but was chatting with Peter and Strange, asking Peter about his trip and what he'd thought of what little he'd seen of Atlanta. He mostly described how Steve had interacted with all the people that they'd seen.

Stephen told Pepper not to bother going to get anything for them to eat, and summoned up a simple – and easy to handle – meal of hotdogs, burgers, fries and various hand-held vegetable sticks. Pepper woke Stark to make sure that _he_ had dinner as well.

Unfortunately Tony woke up grouchy and petulant, even to Pepper. S _he_ was fairly good at ignoring him when he was at his foulest – which he _was_ , snapping at the others and being his sarcastic worst to them. Strange was able to ignore him as well, for the most part – he'd dealt with much worse many times. Peter wasn't, however, and he took it to heart and it showed, even though he tried to hide it.

He understood, though. He _did_. He knew it wasn't personal and that it was just the circumstances, but eventually he set his plate aside and left the room, telling the others goodnight. He went back to his bed with the cloak wrapped around his shoulders, crooning comfort and even love, _maybe_ , into his mind while it stroked his hair. He crawled into his bed and sighed, thinking that _he'd_ get some sleep, and _Mr. Stark_ would get some sleep, and everything could reset in the morning when things would look a little better.

Pepper and Stephen exchanged glances when Peter left, but snapping at Tony about it wasn't going to help, really. That would only make _Tony_ upset, and wouldn't change how Peter was feeling. Pepper was still sitting in Stark's bed beside him, with him somewhat leaning against her. Perversely he was just annoyed enough that he didn't really want to cuddle just then, he just wanted her close. By the time Peter left, he had closed his eyes and was almost asleep again, and wasn't paying much attention to what was going on around him. And certainly wasn't aware of what he'd done, or he never would have done it.

"I'll go talk to him," Strange said, softly.

She hesitated, wondering if _Natasha_ might not be a better choice, only because the situation almost certainly required a little holding and reassurance, and that probably would work better coming from a woman. She nodded, though, and Stephen got out of his bed and went into the other room.

Peter was sprawled on his stomach on the bed, the cloak more or less beside him and _on_ him, idly playing with the boy's hair while it tucked itself around him. Strange went over and leaned on the back of the sofa, looking down at Peter.

"You know it's not _you_ , right?"

Peter nodded, but didn't look up.

"I know."

"He hasn't felt very good all day."

"No, I get it. _Really_. No one likes to be sick."

He knew that better than anyone.

Strange decided that he _did_ understand.

"Need anything?"

"No. I'm okay. Thanks, though."

"You could play with my new rock garden. I hear it's good for stress."

That made Peter smile, and now he turned his head to look at Strange.

"I'd just get sand in my bed."

Strange came around and sat down on the edge of the bed, near Peter's head. The boy needed a change of subject, and he just happened to have one that he wanted to broach.

"Let me ask you something, since I have you alone – more or less."

"Yeah?"

"If I knew a way to block the magic – a way that wouldn't _hurt_ you. Would you want to try it?"

"Do you _have_ a way?"

"Yes. I believe so, at least. We would have to try it, of course, to make sure."

"No."

"You didn't think it through."

"I don't need to, Doctor Strange," Peter told him. ''Not really."

"Why not?"

"Because if I couldn't feel the _magic_ , I wouldn't be able to feel the cloak – and what it's thinking. I'd miss that."

"I think it would miss that, too."

There was a definite feeling of agreement and Peter smiled at the cheer that was emanating from the relic, as if it were validating his observation and adding its own two cents to the conversation. Strange didn't miss the look.

"What did it say?"

"It agreed."

The doctor put his bandaged hand on Peter's back, and on the cloak.

"So we leave it as it stands then?" he asked. "I can stop debating whether to try to convince myself to try the remedy?"

"Yeah. I'm good."

"Yes, you are."

Which made Peter's smile grow.

"Thanks."

""It's still fairly early," Strange pointed out. "We could watch a movie."

The boy looked at him, dubiously.

"Do you really _want_ to?"

"Sure. As long as it isn't something _gory_. Or _stupid_. Or _scary_. Or _preachy_."

"So… a chick flick?"

"Or _romantic_ …"

Peter nodded, and reached for the remote without moving more than his arm. He was fairly comfortable, after all.

He _did_ end up moving, though. They were about twenty minutes into _Good Will Hunting_ when Pepper came out and joined them. Tony had fallen asleep and she wanted to check on Peter. What she found was a dark living room and the boy and Strange sharing a huge bowl of popcorn in Peter's bed while watching the movie.

Without a word, she'd simply sidled up beside Peter, brushed a hand through his hair in greeting, stole a little of the blanket that he was sharing with Strange – and more than a little of their never ending bowl of popcorn and settled in to watch it as well.

By the time Natasha had come to check on things, Peter was asleep between the two and the movie was almost over. She did what Pepper had done and simply joined the group on the bed, sitting beside Strange, who conjured up another blanket to share, and started another movie when the first one ended. He didn't have anywhere to be the next day, and both women were more than willing to spend a quiet evening watching movies. It was a stark contrast between their normal daily routine, and a welcome reprieve for both.

When the _second_ movie was finished, the only one still awake was the cloak, which was draped over Peter and Strange, mostly, idly caressing Peter's bandaged hand.

OOOOOOOO

An odd dream woke Peter much, much later. Not a scary dream, and not a troubling one. Just odd enough to make him jerk awake and look around. He was in his bed – the temporary one, not his regular one – and had a few blankets and the Cloak of Levitation draped over him. The others were gone; they had woken up and left during the course of the evening to find their own beds, and the television was turned off.

He rolled over, debating whether he should go back to sleep or find something to do. A glance at his watch showed it was about 3:30 and a glance at his stack of homework made him sigh and decide that it probably wouldn't be a bad idea to actually work on it. He'd finished _Animal Farm_ , but really hadn't done more than that, lately.

The trip to Atlanta had been fun, but getting some of the homework done would justify the mini vacation a little more. He sat up, stretched and then silently got out of bed, with the cloak now wrapped around his shoulders, crooning gently in his mind as if in deference to the fact that it was night time and people were sleeping – even though no one but him could feel it.

The bathroom light had been left on – probably to be used as something of a nightlight – and it provided plenty of illumination for him as he walked to the bedroom to check on the others. He peeked into the bedroom and saw that Strange was asleep in his bed, rolled onto his side away from the door and Stark was exactly where Peter had last seen him, as well, only now he was asleep, too. He closed the bedroom door silently behind him to keep from disturbing either of them, went over and sat down on the bed and started in on his homework, not bothering to turn on a light since he didn't really need it.


	194. Chapter 195

Daylight was streaming through the window of the bedroom when Tony opened his eyes. He stared up at the ceiling for a moment, almost feeling hung over, and trying to remember if he'd been drinking. Then remembered that he _hadn't_. He rolled slightly, his gaze catching the shot glass on the stand by the bed. It was empty, and had the skyline of a city on it. One he wouldn't have recognized if not for the fact that the word _Atlanta_ was etched across the bottom of the glass in bold black letters.

"Good morning."

He looked beyond the glass and saw Stephen in the bed beside his. The doctor was sitting up, propped against some pillows and looking over at him, an open book in his far hand.

"Hey."

"How are you feeling?"

"Like I tied one too many on last night…"

"Sounds about right."

Stark frowned and forced himself into an upright position, his head aching just enough to make him wince as he did so. He rubbed his face with one bandaged hand. Even through the cloth he could definitely feel the need to shower and shave. A full beard – even a scruffy one – was not his style.

"Have you been awake long?"

"No. About ten minutes or so."

"I feel like crap."

"Is it the rash, or the remedy?"

"I couldn't tell you. But I don't itch."

"That's a start."

"Where's Peter?"

"In bed, I imagine. That's where I left him last night. Well, to be more concise, it was early this morning."

Stark put his head in his hands, resting his elbows on his knees.

"I was a jerk last night, wasn't I?"

"Oh, yes."

"I'm sorry."

"It's understandable," Strange told him. "Some people react differently to herbal medications. Salves and balms included."

"I'm still sorry. Okay?"

"Accepted. Although _I'm_ not the one you should apologize to."

Stark nodded and stood up, looking around, again.

"I need a shower."

"Yes."

"And some clothes."

"Check the dresser."

"No. Those are just _pajamas_. I want some real clothes."

"After last night?" Strange asked, raising an eyebrow. "I'm going to recommend another day in bed for you."

Tony scowled.

"Luckily, _you're_ not my doctor."

"I'll suggest it to _Pepper_."

"That isn't right, Stephen."

Strange smiled, not at all contrite.

"Call it penance for last night."

"You're a _cruel_ man," Tony said, walking over to the dresser and pulling out the clean lounge pants and t-shirt that Pepper had put in the top drawer for him. "I'm _going_ to warn Romanoff. You _know_ that, right?"

Which only made Strange's smile broaden. He set the book aside.

"Don't use all the hot water."

"So cruel…"

With clothing in hand, Stark left the bedroom, automatically glancing over to check on Peter when he did. The boy was at the foot of the bed, curled in an awkward, tight ball apparently asleep, with the cloak covering him. Tony set the clothes down and walked over to the bed, watching Peter sleep for a moment and feeling a rush of warmth and affection that made the ache in his head go away.

He straightened the bedding from behind the couch, and then went around and made a quiet, shooing motion to the cloak so it would let him move Peter into a more comfortable position. The heavy fabric hovered, watching as Stark picked the boy up and transferred him carefully to the center of the bed and covered him with a blanket.

Peter stirred, muttering something, and Tony pressed his cheek against the boy's temple.

" _Shhhh_ …" he whispered. " _Go back to sleep_ …"

The cloak repositioned itself on Peter, part of it slightly covering Tony's hand which was still resting on the boy's back, and Stark felt it grow warm – and heavy. Surprised, he moved his hand out of the way, and felt the top of the fabric, but didn't feel any extra warmth there. The thing was just full of tricks of its own. And Stark realized that it had its own way of making Peter sleep when it wanted him to. For all he knew, it was humming light jazz into Peter's mind, also.

He patted it, slightly, and then reclaimed his clothes and went to take a shower.

OOOOOOOOO

By the time Pepper and Natasha came to check on them, both men had showered, shaved and Strange had treated them both with Wong's salve and had bandaged their hands and necks. Which hadn't been easy, but was done – and far more neatly than Stark could have managed.

Natasha stopped long enough to check on Peter, who was still asleep, and to notice that there was a sizable dent in the stack of homework on the coffee table. Curious, she picked one of the papers up, wondering if he'd done it in his sleep, or actually worked on it. The answers were right, so she assumed he must have woken sometime after she'd left them all asleep on the sofa and worked on it.

She set the homework down, brushed a gentle hand along his temple and went into the bedroom to join the others.

"I really don't need another day in bed," Tony was telling Pepper when she walked into the room.

He was sitting on the edge of the bed, his hair still damp from his shower and his jawline freshly shaved. Pepper was standing between the two beds, looking at Stark with her arms folded across her breasts. When Natasha joined her, Pepper turned to Strange.

"Stephen?"

"It wouldn't hurt to keep him in bed another day."

Stark scowled.

"Come on. _Seriously_?"

"I _told_ you what I thought, Tony," he pointed out.

"I know. But-"

"It won't kill you to stay in bed," Pepper interrupted.

"I have things to get done."

"What things?"

" _Important_ things."

"Like…?"

"Like _things_ , Pepper."

"Tony…"

Stark rolled his eyes, well aware that he was losing the argument.

" _Fine_. But he has to stay in bed, too."

Pepper shrugged, looking at Strange, who shook his head.

"I'm _fine_. No itching, no lethargy. I can get-"

"If I stay, he stays."

"Don't wake up peter," Natasha told Stark, giving him a quelling look that immediately made him silent. When Stephen smirked at the treatment, Natasha turned her attention to him, as well. "It won't kill you to stay in bed another day, _either_."

"But-"

" _Wong_ can take care of the sanctum, yes?"

"Something might come up…"

"If it does, he knows exactly where to find you."

"Natasha, I have things to do," Strange told her, reasonably. " _Research_."

"Stephen, please. Just stay in bed another day. Just to make sure…"

He sighed, but knew he would do what she wanted. So did _she_ , of course.

"Fine."

Her smile made the capitulation worth it, and he silently wondered just _when_ he'd decided her smile was more important than doing whatever he wanted.

"Are you guys hungry?" Pepper asked.

"Should we wait for Peter?" Stark asked.

Natasha shook her head.

"He's out. I'll make sure he eats when he wakes up if you're asleep."


	195. Chapter 196

Peter was vaguely aware when someone slid under the blankets with him. He was still far more asleep than he was awake, though. Even when that same someone tucked right up against his back and put one arm around him, he wasn't _completely_ awake. _He'd_ never spooned before, but he'd seen it on TV and in movies, of course, and it really _was_ a comfortable position, if not fairly intimate. His sleepy mind just accepted it as yet another way to be warm and soothed. He mumbled something even he wouldn't have understood, and his hand caught the hand wrapped around him, and he held it against his belly, sighing in content and already drifting back to sleep.

The warm body that was pressed against his shifted just a little, and he felt someone's cheek against his ear.

"Peter…"

Even his sleepy mind recognized Natasha's voice and responded.

"Hmmm?"

"Are you awake?"

"Mhh-mmhmm…"

"Is that a yes?" a different voice asked from somewhere above him.

That one was Pepper.

"It didn't sound like one, did it?" Natasha asked.

He was waking up a little, now, and could hear the amusement in her voice. His sleepy mind was able to add a picture to the voice, and he assumed she was smiling.

"Are you hungry?" Natasha asked him.

"I'm _sleepy_ …" he murmured.

"You can sleep later," Pepper promised. "We want you to eat something before it's lunch time."

He let go of Natasha's hand and rolled over, slowly, turning himself in her arms to face her so he could press his face against her collarbone, more than relaxed enough with her to silently ask to be cuddled. She obliged him and now he could feel the vibration when she chuckled as he put his arm around her

"Don't get too comfortable, sweetheart," she told him, letting him go so she could sweep her fingers through his hair. "You need to get up and eat breakfast."

"He _looks_ pretty comfortable," Pepper observed.

"I am," he agreed, awake now but willing to go back to sleep if they let him. He still hadn't even opened his eyes.

"What do you want for breakfast?" Natasha asked him.

"Whatever is easy."

"Pancakes?"

"No. Too messy."

"There's already popcorn in your bed," Pepper pointed out. She _knew_ , because she had spilled some of it last night and was at least partially responsible.

"Do I need to have Clint and Steve come wake you up?" Natasha asked him. "They would, I bet."

"With strippers and whiskey?" Peter asked, smiling into her shirt.

That earned him a poke in the ribs, and he laughed and pulled away from her, finally opening his eyes, and not surprised to see her smiling at him.

"Do I even _want_ to know what they are teaching him?" Pepper asked, shaking her head, amused.

"That's what we get for letting him go with those two unsupervised," Natasha said, sitting up and pushing the blanket aside. The cloak of levitation had been quiet during the cuddling, but now that Peter was sitting up as well, it moved to his shoulder, and played with his hair, humming cheerfully, reflecting his good mood back at him.

Peter rubbed his face, fairly well awake, now, and thinking that every guy in his school would have killed to be woken up that way.

"How do you feel?" Pepper asked, watching him intently.

"Pretty good."

"Itchy?"

"No. Not really."

"Hungry?"

"Yes."

"Good."

Natasha got out of his bed, still in a good mood – and always feeling better for having had a chance to steal some free cuddle time with him.

"Think you could handle some oatmeal?"

"Yeah, that sounds good. In the commissary or the lounge?"

"In the _bed_ ," Pepper said. "We're keeping Tony and Stephen both in bed today, and _you_ can keep them company."

"But I'm _okay_ ," Peter told her. "I went to _Atlanta_ yesterday, remember? Nothing bad happened."

Which reminded him of something else. He looked around by the arm of the sofa bed, and leaned over, picking up the bag he'd brought from the hotel.

"Still," Pepper said. "It wouldn't be fair to keep them in bed and let you up."

He pulled out a wind chime similar to the one he brought Natasha – only this one had dolphins instead of butterflies, and was tinged in every blue imaginable.

"This is for you," he told her, handing it to her.

She smiled, delighted with the soft chiming noises that it made when he gave it to her – and with the design, and really, just pleased that he'd thought of her. She held it up so Romanoff could see it.

"Fine. You can eat in the lounge – _if_ Natasha agrees."

He turned to look at Romanoff, who had less chance at saying no to _Peter_ than Stephen had saying no to _her_. And she knew it. She gave in graciously, and with a smile, knowing his face would light up.

"I don't see why not."

Peter beamed.

"But first," Natasha said. "A shower to get the old salve off, and then we'll put a new layer on and new bandages and take a look at the rash."

"Shouldn't we wait for Doctor Strange?"

"He's asleep," Pepper told him. "You're stuck with us, unless you want to wait."

"No. I trust you guys."

They couldn't be any worse at it than Stark had been at wrapping his ribs, after all.

"Okay."

OOOOOOOO

"It looks pretty good," Pepper said about half an hour later.

"Yeah."

The two had Peter sitting on the arm of the sofa, wearing sweats and no shirt, his hair damp from his shower. The cloak was hovering in the air between the two women, looking for all the world as if it were consulting with them. He had his arms out for them to allow them to check the rash, but like they had both observed, it was already fading a bit, and looked far less irritated than it had the day before.

"Wong's salve must be doing its thing," Peter noted. "It doesn't itch hardly at all."

"We'll have Stephen look at it latter, just to make sure we get a real doctor's opinion," Pepper said, as Natasha reached for the pot of salve. "But it looks much better than Tony's does."

Romanoff put on gloves and slathered the salve onto Peter's arms without too much mess and Pepper followed her progress with bandages. They repeated the progress on his neck, and then just used the salve on his face like before.

"Let's eat," Pepper said, handing him his shirt.

"But _then_ you go back to bed for a while," Natasha told him. "Without _argument_."

Meaning no irresistible puppy eyes to try and get out of it.

"With strippers and beer to lull me back to sleep?"

Both women smiled, and Natasha reached out before he realized what she was doing and pressed her hand against his chest, pushing him off his perch on the arm of the sofa and sending him backwards onto the bed.

" _I_ might be convinced to keep you company if you eat more than just oatmeal."

Peter grinned, and reached for his shirt again, then vaulted over the back of the sofa.

"You're better than strippers _or_ beer," he assured her.

"Tell me you haven't tried either," Pepper said, heading for the door.

"Once," he admitted, following her, pulling the shirt on.

"I'm not even going to ask which one."


	196. Chapter 197

It was a quiet morning for Peter. Once he finished eating – oatmeal _and_ sausages – he went back to his bed as promised. He _did_ stop to check in on the other two, but Stark and Strange were both sleeping when he looked in on them. He wasn't tired by then, of course, so he opted to work on his homework a little more instead of napping. Natasha offered to sit with him and keep him company – which she'd promised she'd do if he had a substantial breakfast, but he'd told her that watching him do homework was going to be even more boring than watching him sleep, so he wouldn't hold her to that deal.

She'd promised him a raincheck and gave him a hug, and told him to call her when the others woke up. Then she'd left him to his own devices. With the cloak wrapped up around his shoulders, almost habitually caressing the back of his head and his ears, he started in on his homework and found almost immediately that he was going to be receiving help with the things that he didn't know.

As if to remind him it was still there, and still remorseful for how he had reacted to what it had done before, the Mind stone was right on the edge of his consciousness, throwing him answers when he wasn't sure, and formulas when he would normally have had to look them up – either in a text book or on the internet.

It wasn't as invasive when it helped him with his homework – and nowhere near as distracting as the cloak was. It just nudged him when he needed it, and he had to admit, it was extremely helpful. He made it through almost all the homework he'd brought into the VIP room with him before he heard someone moving in the other bedroom.

A moment later Tony Stark came into the living room and joined him on the foot of the bed where he'd been sitting so he could use the coffee table as a work desk.

"Hey."

Peter glanced over at him, setting down his pen.

"Hi."

"Homework?"

"Yeah."

Stark picked up one of the sheets he'd completed, and skimmed through it.

"Huh. You must be awake…"

"Why do you say that?"

"These are _right_."

Peter smiled.

"I'm awake."

"Good."

"Need any help?"

"No. I'm already getting some."

"Mind stone?"

Tony wasn't dumb, after all.

"Yeah."

"Are you okay?"

Peter nodded.

"It just pops an answer into my head if I'm stuck. It's not hurting me or anything."

"Good." He set the paper back onto the stack, and hesitated. "I was a jerk last night, and you didn't deserve it. I'm sorry."

Peter shook his head.

"No. I mean, it's _okay_. I understand. I-"

"I didn't feel good," Stark interrupted. "But that's no excuse for how I acted. I didn't want you to think that I was upset with you, or anything. I-"

"I understand, Mr. Stark," Peter told him. " _Really_. If anyone knew how you felt last night, it'd be me, right?"

"As sick as you've been, Peter, you've never lashed out at one of us."

"I threw you across the room, from what I understand."

"That's not the same thing. You didn't know what you were doing. You were out of it."

"And you were having a reaction to the medicine Wong made," Peter pointed out. "It's pretty close to the same thing, I think."

Stark sighed, and put his hand on Peter's shoulder, sliding it under the cloak so he could squeeze it.

"Just don't take it personally, okay?"

"I didn't."

"Good."

He gave Peter a one armed hug, holding the boy's head against his shoulder for a moment, and Peter sensed that it wasn't because he thought that _he_ needed the reassurance the action gave, but that _Mr. Stark_ was the one that needed the comfort just then.

Comfort Peter was willing to give him, of course.

When Tony let him go, he rubbed a bandaged hand against his face, briefly.

"So have you been doing homework all morning?"

"Since breakfast."

"You're not _stressing_ it, though, right?"

"No. It was just a good time to work on it."

"Good. You need to take a break, though. Find some kind of distraction."

"Yeah. I think so, too."

"We could duct tape Stephen to his bed…"

Peter grinned.

"That would probably be a bad idea."

"Why?"

"You think he wouldn't realize it was _you_?"

" _Us_ , Peter. Not _me_. Us."

" _Us_ , then?"

Stark shrugged.

"He'd appreciate the humor of the situation."

"I _doubt_ it."

"He's _right_ ," Strange said from where he was leaning against the doorway to the bedroom, his arms crossed over his chest as he watched the two. Clearly he hadn't been awake long, but he almost certainly had listened to at least some of the conversation they'd been having.

Peter looked back at Stark, a slight smile on his face.

"You knew he was _there_ , didn't you?"

"Whaaaaat?"

Peter's innocent expression was enough to make Stark roll his eyes, but he knew that people didn't sneak up on Peter very often. Not when he was healthy, anyway. Tony turned to Strange.

" _We_ knew you were there."

"Uh huh."

"I was telling Peter he needed a distraction now that he's done working on homework for the day. Any ideas?"

"Natasha told me to call her when you guys woke up," Peter said. "She might have something planned…"

"What she probably has _planned_ is something awful. Some way to make us stay in bed for the rest of the week – or something that includes harvesting organs or something. I vote that we find something to amuse ourselves and wait to let her know we're awake until later."

"Like what, Tony?" Strange asked.

Stark shrugged.

" _You're_ a magician. You must have something up your sleeve."

The doctor snorted, moving into the living room and sitting on the arm of the sofa.

"All I have up my sleeve right now is a bandage."

"Video games?" Peter suggested.

Both men frowned.

"No."

They'd done the video game thing and had played each other to a standstill that had lasted hours. Neither was in a hurry to repeat the experience.

"Trivial Pursuit?"

Stark hesitated.

"Is the Mind stone still lurking in your head?"

"I think so."

"Then, _no_. "

"The Mind stone has been communicating with you?" Strange asked.

"It helped me do my homework," Peter told him.

"Communicating _directly_ with you?"

"Sticking answers in my head," Peter told him. "It doesn't speak to me."

He'd already explained how the thing interacted with him, though.

"Is it bothering you?"

"No."

"Huh."

Strange looked like he was going to say more, or maybe ask more questions about the infinity stone, but Tony didn't want to discuss the Mind stone. He didn't like that it had some odd connection with Peter. He didn't mind the cloak – as a matter of fact he actually was starting to _like_ the cloak. Probably because it liked _Peter_ , and _he_ liked Peter. The Mind stone was deadly, though – _to Peter_. Stark would have preferred the thing kept its distance and didn't pose any risk to the boy.

"I know what we can do," he said, standing up and slapping Peters shoulder when he did. "Go get some shoes on."

"What...?"

"You, too, Stephen."


	197. Chapter 198

"I've been looking all over for you guys," Natasha said, walking over to stand next to Strange.

He smiled, putting an arm around her to hold her against his side, but turned his attention back to the window he'd been looking through when she'd joined him. The cloak was hanging off his collar, but reached out and draped a piece of itself across her shoulder, welcoming her with a gentle caress to her left ear that made her smile.

From the window he could watch the scene below him, which at the moment was Peter and Tony engaged in a cat and mouse game of tag in a somewhat dark and foggy scenario, working their way through a training room with walls, doors, and other obstacles and even a loft area. Both were holding laser tag weapons and wearing harnesses that had sensors on the chest, back and shoulders to give the other targets for those weapons.

"We've been here for over an hour," he told her.

"We normally use firearms equipped with the sensors," she told him, watching as Peter leaped over a low wall and hesitated, clearly trying to figure out where Stark was. "Why aren't _they_?"

"Peter doesn't _like_ the guns," Strange explained. "And I have to admit that I'm relieved he doesn't share a fascination with firearms that many teenaged boys do. As quick as he is, he'd be a deadly shot, I imagine."

"True." She looked at the cloak. "Why is the cloak _here_?"

"Because it was cheating and kept covering up Peter's sensors, keeping him from getting tagged. Tony finally disqualified it from play."

"He was _supposed_ to call me when you guys woke up," Natasha said.

"He _wanted_ to, but Tony talked him out of it. Something about you finding a way to keep us in bed all day."

"You're supposed to be resting."

"I feel better for having had all the sleep I got," Strange assured her. "I'm sure _Tony_ does too, even if he won't admit it. But Peter worked on homework all morning and needed something more physical than a nap. Tony convinced me that we might not be able to persuade you and Pepper of that, and you'd probably work your feminine wiles to keep us in bed."

"He said _feminine wiles_?"

"I would have used the word _charm_ , but it amounts to the same thing."

"You didn't want to play?"

"I already did."

"And won?"

"And _lost_. In spectacular fashion."

"That bad, huh?"

"It was like the OK Corral. _Three times_."

She smiled at that.

"Who's winning between _them_?"

"Peter's faster, but Tony knows all the tricks and he's using them. They've both had wins and losses."

They watched from above as Peter set up an ambush for Stark, waiting for the man to walk into it before springing his trap. A trap that Tony clearly expected, because right before Peter fired, the sensor in his chest area blared and he was 'killed'.

"That was a pretty good move," Natasha conceded. "Tony's learning."

"I imagine you'd give him a run for his money," Strange pointed out.

She nodded. "Who do you think taught him?"

Romanoff pulled away from his embrace to reach for the intercom button.

" _Lunch time, guys,"_ she told the entire room. " _Put your stuff away and meet back in the VIP room."_

Stark's scowl was visible when he turned toward the observation window, but Peter had already nodded and was pulling off his harness. Natasha didn't wait to see if they would comply, but Strange did, and shook his head with an amused smile.

"That boy will do anything you tell him to. You _know_ that, right?"

She nodded.

"Which is a good thing, because he's got me wrapped around his finger."

"Walk with me?"

"Sure."

OOOOOOOOOO

"We _could_ go one more round," Tony told Peter. "Romanoff time isn't the same as everyone else's time. It's flexible."

The boy smiled and shook his head.

"I'm ready to eat."

Which was all to the good as far as Stark was concerned, and worth allowing Natasha her victory. This time. He wanted to get a few pounds back on Peter before returning him to his aunt the following week.

"Fine. But we do this again sometime."

"Yeah. It was fun."

They left their equipment on a supply table and walked back to the VIP room together, assuming that Strange would go back with Romanoff. Tony had his hand on Peter's shoulder, pleased that they'd had some time together that didn't include sleeping or worrying.

"How do you feel?"

"Pretty good, really."

Peter noticed that no one had reached or his forehead for two straight days, now, and assumed correctly that that meant he might be on the mend and finally starting to look healthy enough that they weren't so worried about him.

"You _look_ good," Stark told him, confirming his speculations. "Let's keep it that way, okay?"

"Yeah."

"After lunch we'll see about finding something to do that doesn't require me to hunt you down and kill you."

OOOOOOOOO

He didn't need to worry. Natasha and Pepper were both waiting in the VIP room and while Romanoff was looking for the missing convalescents, Pepper had brought in lunch for them. Keeping it simple for the sake of their clothing and self-esteem, they'd decided sandwiches would be the best option and had rounded the meal out with potato salad and whole pieces of fruit.

Once they'd all eaten and the table was cleared, Pepper had produced a board game, and mentioned that she'd cleared her entire afternoon to spend time with them. Meaning that she really had cleared it to keep Stark from arguing about getting out of bed the rest of the day – an announcement that made him sigh, but didn't cause any open rebellion.

Tony had to admit that he had a good time, despite feeling like a prisoner. The game was interesting, and the company was perfect for the mood he was in. It also gave him more time to spend with Peter, observing the boy and watching for any tell-tale signs that he wasn't as healthy as he seemed to be.

He didn't see anything to cause him worry, though. Not even when the game broke up finally and Peter told them that he was going to take a nap when they asked him if he wanted to switch to something else. Pepper suggested Pinochle, and they all agreed, but Natasha excused herself for a moment, and headed for the living room.

Obviously Tony wasn't the only one keeping an eye on Peter's recovery now that it was on the right track.

She walked into the living room just as he was settling on the bed, picking pieces of popcorn out from under him and tossing them onto the coffee table. The cloak was draped over the back of the couch, clearly waiting for him to finish what he was doing so it could make its transition from enigmatic magical relic to blanket, and Natasha rested her arms beside it, watching him.

"Need anything?"

He shook his head.

"I'm fine, Natasha. Just ready for a nap."

She leaned over and brushed her fingers against his temple as the cloak stirred enough to drape itself over him now that he was laying down, a corner of fabric also caressing his temple.

"I won't be far away," she told him as he closed his eyes, giving himself up to their touch and allowing it to soothe him – even though he really did feel okay, like he'd said.

He nodded, not opening his eyes, but reaching up and touching her hand for a moment before he tucked it under the cloak.

"Thanks."

She watched him for a moment – because she could – and then finally pulled herself away and went back into the bedroom, closing the door behind her so they wouldn't keep him awake.

"How's he doing?" Strange asked, watching with the others as she sat down in the chair across from Pepper.

"He's good. Already almost asleep."

"I'm going to hate seeing him go home," Pepper admitted.

She was the only one who admitted it, but they all agreed.


	198. Chapter 199

_A/N: So this story is winding down, and I know that several of you have asked about the camping trip with Peter, Tony and Stephen. I didn't want to add it to this story, because this story is about Peter's illness and the subsequent things they had to deal with. And it would make it that much longer! Now that I have established myself an AU, though, I can make that into its own story and can have fun with them and see what troubles they can get into. Thanks for reading this story, though. I've had a lot of fun with it. This is not the final chapter - just so you know._

OOOOOOOOO

"You're all packed?"

"Mostly."

"May isn't expecting you until late tomorrow, so you can finish it in the morning if you need to."

Peter nodded. That was pretty much what he'd figured, too. He still had a few things to put into his bags, and there were some things that he didn't plan on taking with him. Things that would stay in his room at the Avenger Compound to make it lived in when he came back for his visits and for training.

"I'll have to," he admitted.

Tony and Peter were alone in his quarters. Not the VIP ones – the three of them had vacated those rooms several days before, and now things were more or less back to normal. Peter's rashes were completely cleared thanks to Wong's salve, and the ones on Stark and Strange were almost gone, too.

Strange had pronounced Peter healthy enough to go home. He was still painfully thin, but he was gaining a little weight back, and he looked healthier than he had in quite a while. He'd had a sleepwalking episode, but only one, and it hadn't been repeated. It wasn't enough to keep him from home.

The moment was definitely bittersweet for the boy, since he missed May – and being in the city where he could try to make a difference as Spiderman – but he knew he was going to miss being at the compound full time, as well. May had already agreed to allow him back every other weekend, but it wouldn't be the same, he knew.

 _Tony_ knew it, too.

The two of them were sitting on the sofa, brooding about the whole situation, even though neither would admit to the other that they were anything but happy, determined to keep things as upbeat as possible.

"You know that I'm not really going to buy you a _pony_ , right?"

Peter smiled and nodded.

"I wouldn't have a place for it."

"We'll still do the movie night, though. Sometime. You pick the place and we'll go. Don't pick Belarus, though. None of the movies are in English."

"Okay."

"May's party at Stark tower."

"Right."

It was the perfect place, really. They'd already discussed that with Pepper, who was the one who had suggested it.

"And the car of your choice from the garage on your 16th birthday."

"You don't have to do that," Peter told him. "I'd be better off with something a little less flashy – especially in my neighborhood."

Besides, he'd never be able to afford the insurance that would come with any of the cars in Stark's garage and he knew it.

"We'll discuss it later."

Tony wasn't good at taking no for an answer. He continued down the list.

"Hotdog cart?"

"I suppose if being Spiderman doesn't work out, I'll need a career to fall back on…"

"We'll raincheck the hotdog cart, then."

"And the _jet_?"

Stark smiled, and put his arm around the boy's shoulder.

"I'll buy it from you for $17,556 in cash and room and board whenever you want to come for a visit here or at the tower."

"And free rides whenever they go anywhere that they can take me."

"You drive a hard bargain."

"Take it or leave it."

"Done."

They both smiled, and Stark pulled Peter into a hug that lasted a long time.

"Thanks for everything," Peter told him, his face pressed against Tony's shirt.

"You're welcome." He squeezed him tightly, and then turned his head and pressed a kiss against the boy's cheek before letting him go. "We should probably get going. The others are waiting for you."

He nodded and they stood up, heading for the door with Stark's hand still on his shoulder.

OOOOOOOO

Peter's last night at the compound wasn't going to pass without notice. Pepper had organized a simple dinner and everyone had made sure that their schedules were clear so they'd be there. Including Strange, who was going to be making his own arrangements with May to have Peter at the sanctum at least twice a month and far more often if after school arrangements could be made.

It wasn't really a _party_ , because there weren't any presents, and there wasn't really a celebration. Everyone was glad that the boy was healthy again, of course, but they were all going to miss having him there with them. Even though _they_ weren't always at the facility themselves.

Steve took several photos of himself with Peter – he even dressed up in his uniform, figuring that the boy's friends would be able to see who he'd been spending time away from school with. Clint and Bruce joined in as well, and not to be outdone, _Tony_ had several taken, too, both in the Ironman suit, and some without. Natasha won that contest, though, when she took a selfie with the boy and kissed him right as they took the photo. Peter had blushed, but not in the photo, and he thought that he might have that one framed.

She didn't know it – although she might have _guessed_ – but it was technically his first kiss, and well worth remembering.

Strange pulled Peter aside fairly late in the evening to discuss their chess debts. _His_ chess debts, actually, since Peter hadn't lost to him once. Standing at the far end of the bar, watching Clint play Natasha darts, Stephen handed Peter a cola and smiled when the cloak reached for a beer instead.

"We have a bit of a problem," Strange told him.

"What problem?" Peter asked, taking the beer from the cloak and putting it back down on the bar.

"I lost the sanctum to you in a chess game."

Peter grinned and shook his head.

"That's not a problem. You know I never _intended_ to hold you to that."

"So Natasha told me," he said, shrugging. "The _problem_ comes with the fact that the sanctum itself is magical, and as such, it's almost a sentient manifestation of everyone that has been in it in its history."

"It's alive?"

"To a point," Strange told him. "Not exactly like the cloak, but it is self-aware – _somewhat_ – and unfortunately, _it_ is aware that we bet and I lost, so you and I need some closure on this issue."

"Like what?" Peter asked, curiously. "I already said I don't want it."

"It doesn't work that way. Either I need to win it back or buy it back."

"Okay. Let's play chess. I'll let you win, and then it will know it belongs to you again."

"If you _let_ me win, then I didn't win," Strange pointed out.

"So you buy it back, then," Peter told him, shrugging.

"Do you know the value of some of the artifacts in-"

"What's the going rate for an on call brain surgeon?" Peter interrupted. "Twenty-four hours a day – including assistants doing research, and several weeks' worth of nonstop care?"

The doctor smiled, and understood what he was getting at.

"I'd have to itemize something. It could take a while."

"Why don't we just say that the sanctum is a fair exchange for all you've done for me?" Peter asked. "It's _not_. It isn't even close to being worth everything you've done for me, but I don't have anything of value to repay you for it all."

"Done."

Strange pulled Peter into a hug and the boy wrapped his arms around his doctor, holding him tightly. The cloak wrapped itself around both of them, holding them even closer and crooning affection to Peter.

"May likes you," Peter reminded him when they finally separated. "She'll probably let me over to the sanctum quite a bit. Don't think that you've seen the last of me."

"Good."

"Besides, we're still going _camping_ , right?"

Strange just rolled his eyes, making Peter laugh.

OOOOOOO

There were a lot of somewhat similar conversations that night, and it was fairly late when Peter finally went to bed, filled with cheer at the warmth and acceptance of the people around him. He knew where he belonged, now, and that there would be a place for him when he was ready to claim it.

He was almost asleep when he felt someone join him, and hands came over his eyes in the dark.

"Guess who?"

He smiled.

"Tony Stark."

She chuckled and let him go so he could turn around to face her. The only light in the room came from the light outside his window, but it was more than enough for both of them.

"Are you packed?"

"Yeah."

"I'm going to miss having you here any time I need a hug," Natasha told him.

"Me, too." He said, meaning it. Then he held up the wrist that he wore his watch on. "You know how to reach me if you need me, though, and I'll be back for a visit in a couple of weeks."

"And if I decided to _keep_ you?"

"If anyone could, it'd be you."

Natasha smiled and put her arms around him, hugging him close and running her fingers through his hair. Peter tucked his head under her chin, his cheek against her neck and closed his eyes, allowing her touch and her presence to lull him to sleep like it had so many times during his illness.

Romanoff felt him fall asleep and debated going back to her own bed. But she was comfortable, and so was he – and she knew she wouldn't have the chance to hold him again like this, so she decided to stay where she was.

In minutes, she was asleep too.


	199. Epilogue

"This is _great_ …"

Peter had to nod his agreement, slapping Ned's shoulder as they watched every aspect of May's birthday party unfold around them. It was getting late, but the party had been a complete success, and everything that he could have hoped for when it came to making her happy.

It had started with getting everything organized – which _Pepper_ had more or less taken care of, with a lot of help from a catering and party place. Then the guests had started arriving. They were mostly Avengers, who had come to like May in the time that they'd spent with her on her visits to see Peter, and a small group of friends from May's work. These Peter had secretly invited – with the help of _Estelle_ , who Peter had recruited for assistance, since _he_ didn't know all the friends May had at work. Also the people who had helped get Peter well, initially, including the lab techs and Christine Palmer, as well as Doctor Strange, of course.

To Peter's great shock – and _excitement_ – a surprise guest on the list had included Thor. Tony had brought the boy over to meet him when he'd arrived, and the god of thunder had shaken Peter's hand, said he'd heard a lot about him and apologized for what Loki had done to him. Peter had simply stammered his way through the conversation and shook his head, saying that it was no big deal.

Luckily, they had enough time before the others arrived that Peter was over his own shock, and could enjoy the way the others acted when they arrived and saw that Thor was at the party, too. May and Ned had been the last to arrive, of course. It was a Friday, and Peter and Ned were going to be spending the weekend at the Avenger compound so Ned told May that Stark had asked if she could drop him by the tower to save the trip out to Queens.

It had been a decoy, of course, and May knew it. She played along, though, rather than even consider ruining the surprise Peter wanted to give her. And she _had_ been surprised when she saw all the people and all the work that had gone into making the party truly extraordinary.

Not to mention when Thor himself had brought over a present – chosen just for her from the vaults of Asgard, he'd said – which had made her blush a brilliant red at the attentions as he's helped put the necklace on. Peter hadn't been the only one to smile at that.

"Do you realize what this is going to do to our street cred?" Ned said, as they watched Captain America walk by, talking with Estelle and holding a chocolate lab puppy that was one of twenty-three puppies that had been brought in and were now running loose in the party area, available to be cuddled and held and wrestled with. Steve had picked one up and hadn't set it down, since.

"We don't really _need_ much more street cred," Peter reminded him.

He'd sent all the photos that he'd had taken with the Avengers to Ned, simply to show him what he'd been doing, and Ned, of course, had shared them with some of the kids at school. Not the one of Natasha kissing him – which Peter hadn't shared, even with Ned – but the Ironman pictures, and the Captain America pictures had been more than enough. Add in the hot spy and the rest – and now there were going to be ones with _Thor_ – and Ned was in heaven.

"You can _always_ use more cred," Ned told him, sagely.

Peter snorted, but before he could reply Christine Palmer walked over, holding a drink.

"Your _Highness_ …"

He shook his head with a grin.

"I told you, I'm not a prince."

She rolled her eyes.

"Come on, Peter," she said, waving her free arm at the room. "That's what the government people _told_ you to say, right?"

"No. I really-"

" _Thor_ is at your aunt's birthday party," she pointed out. "That isn't _normal_."

"I didn't have anything to-"

"His aunt is a desert _princess_ ," Ned blurted. "But you can't tell anyone, or the government will lose all the oil contracts."

Palmer smiled, and Peter rolled his eyes, but she nodded, satisfied, and walked away to go talk to Thor, who was being very gracious about socializing with the partygoers.

"You shouldn't have told her that," Peter hissed at his friend.

"She's going to believe what she wants," Ned told him, shrugging. "Now she can let it go."

"What are you two up to?"

They both turned to see Strange walking up to them, dressed as sharp as ever and clearly enjoying the party and the company. Of course, at the moment the company was _Natasha_ , who was wearing a dress that made her look even more amazing than ever. She hugged Peter warmly and kissed his cheek, and then greeted Ned with a hug, as well – much to his delight.

"Just trying to stay out of the way," Peter said with a smile, pleased to see them both. "Are you going to be at the compound this weekend?"

"Absolutely."

"Where's your cloak?" Ned asked. "I'm surprised it didn't come."

Peter had taken Ned by the sanctum after school one day and he'd met the cloak, which had infatuated him, even though the relic had spent most of its time wrapped around Peter, crooning to him and reminding him that he always knew where to come if he needed a happy voice in his head.

"It doesn't like to be a blanket," Strange told him. "With May here, it's better off at home."

"It doesn't miss spending all its time with Peter?" Natasha asked. "I know that _I_ do."

"It sneaks into my room about three nights a week and sleeps with me," Peter admitted.

"Which _isn't_ an ability that we knew it had," Stephen added, clearly pleased that they had found out something new about the relic. "I need to go talk to Tony. I'll talk to you guys later."

Natasha hooked her arm through Peter's.

"And if _I_ snuck into your bed three nights a week…?" She whispered into his ear.

He grinned, and blushed, and hugged her tightly. _She_ was the one he missed the most, really, when he wasn't at the compound. He saw Stark and Strange a couple times a week, but Natasha didn't have the flexible schedule that the men did, and he didn't see her nearly enough.

"I'd be the happiest guy alive," he told her, honestly.

She smiled at that, while Ned just shook his head, trying to figure out how to get a video of that conversation so he could show the other guys at school the kind of women he and Peter hung out with.

May walked over, then, holding a drink and looking like she was having the time of her life. She smiled at Ned, and hugged Natasha before looking at Peter.

"Do you have everything you need for this weekend?"

"Yes."

"Ned?"

"I'm good, May. Thanks."

"Did you have fun?" Peter asked.

His aunt smiled, and hugged him, hard.

"It was the best birthday ever, Peter. Thank you."

"Pepper did most of the organizing," Peter admitted. "I just thought of things you might like."

"It was perfect." She brushed her fingers against his cheek, just happy to have him healthy and home – although she didn't say it, since he already knew how she felt. "I'll see you Sunday night, right?"

"Right."

"Be good."

He rolled his eyes at Natasha's grin, and nodded.

"I will."

"You, too, Ned."

"I will, May."

She walked away, and Peter shook his head.

"I think she's a bit drunk."

"You _think_?" Ned said, grinning.

"Tony assigned Happy to her," Natasha told Peter. "His job is to make sure he gets her home safe."

Which was a relief to Peter.

"Good thing."

"Steve and I are going to call it a night and head back. You guys want to ride with us?"

"Yeah," Ned said, grinning. Who wouldn't? Captain America, _and_ Natasha?

Peter shook his head, though.

"I'll meet you guys there," he told her. "I'm going to catch a ride with Mr. Stark."

OOOOOOOOO

" _Catch up, Peter!"_

The boy looked up, grinning behind his mask when he saw Ironman soar by, thrusters at the bare minimum needed to keep him moving, going slow enough to taunt him, good-naturedly.

Peter shot a web at a nearby flagpole and swung himself up, and then around, landing on the pole for a minute, watching for the right moment, and trusting his spider senses to tell him when that moment was. Then, with the other hand he shot a web directly at the Ironman suit, catching the right hip at the exact angle needed that the webbing wouldn't get melted by the thrusters.

Which had happened a time or two while he and Stark had been experimenting with flying together like they were. Tony had been able to catch him – or he'd caught himself with webbing – but it had definitely been a learning period for them. An exciting and fun time, as far as Peter was concerned – and he was sure Stark felt the same way.

Now it was second nature, and an _easy_ shot, and he was jerked sideways at a terrific speed when Ironman engaged the thrusters in the suit and headed out of the city, back to the Avenger facility. With an excited whoop that Tony could hear through their communications link, Peter held on and enjoyed the flight.

Time well spent with the man he loved most in the world.

OOOOOOOO

 _A/N:_

 _Okay! Thanks for reading. For my first Avenger story I think it went well - and I really had a good time writing it._


End file.
